Colony 21186D: Survival
by Ardent Aspen
Summary: After the War for All, colonies spread out from Earth and Cybertron, exploring the vast reaches of space, finding parts of the galaxy they didn't know existed. Those parts of the galaxy weren't as uninhabited as they thought. AU
1. Prologue

There had been no warning.

What had begun as a routine border patrol was quickly dissolving into a nightmare out of the depths of the Pit itself. Nebulous shapes oozed from the ground around the small party of mechs.

There was no way to classify them: their processors hummed and clicked uselessly with the knowledge that these creatures were somehow /wrong/. A brief impression of cruel faceplates caught from the corner of the optic, a sudden flash of needle-like teeth, a deep feeling of unease: these were the only observations the mechs were able to make.

That's when mechs started dying. The first to go was a rookie: a young Seeker far more at home in the stars than on the ground. He suddenly squealed in pain as one of his wings was bent in an unnatural angle.

He clawed at the invisible attacker, who severed his main fuel lines and left him on the barren face of the asteroid, his once-vibrant green armor fading to gunmetal grey. Shaken, the other five soldiers clustered together, knowing there was no way to prevent another attack.

"Switch to infrared vision." the commander ordered. To his credit, he kept his voice steady. He had seen violent off-linings before, and knew how to effectively shut down his emotional responses. Fear, however, turned out to be more powerful than he had reckoned.

The next casualty was a seasoned warrior of the old days with a reputation as deadly as the sector of space they had settled in. He had served in many wars, and seemed almost to have a sixth sense at times. He heard a subtle shift in the air current, felt a clinging horror wash over him.

There was barely time for the great triple-changer to shove another soldier down before they overtook him. The life he had attempted to save fared no better than he, and energon flowed freely into the sandy ground from their shattered limbs.

In a blind panic, one black and gold mech began to discharge his plasma cannon at the shifting shapes around them, blasting anything that moved. One shot clipped the canyon wall, the second made a new crater on the asteroid's surface.

He squeezed the trigger a third time, and a choked cry answered him. In horror, he watched his frame-brother totter and collapse to his knees, staring in shock at the hole in his midsection until his optics flickered out and he crashed to the ground.

The shooter howled his anguish to the stars and barely registered the hunters circling him, even as they tore his Spark from his chestplates. Energon dribbling from his mouth, he exhaled once and moved no more.

The commander trembled now, his armor rattling in sheer terror. All those under his command were dead, and the only logical conclusion was that he would soon follow. One of the forms brushed against his back struts, and he was left with the impression of armor as cold as ice. "Alone..." a cruel voice whispered on the wind, "Are you frightened?..."

The commander reached for his internal com, readying himself to call for backup. His servos froze suddenly. The killers could track a mech just by one drop of energon, what would they do with a com signal? He dropped his hand to his side and hung his helm.

Something like a sob burst from his lips as talons viciously tore across one of his doorwings, ripping it from his chassis. Even in his final moments however, the patrol leader had one last stroke of luck. The spray of energon from his wound covered his nightmarish assailant, revealing its form for one brief moment. It was long enough for the mech, who called forth his twin blades and bisected the creature cleanly.

Roaring one last battle cry, he whirled in a tight circle, slashing at the air around him even as his leaking energon painted his silver armor blue. Enraged by the death of their comrade, the remaining foes converged upon their quarry, savagely shredding his defenses.

In the end, the largest of them held the commander up against the canyon wall and languidly released its cloaking device. "You fight well." It stated in a harsh, guttural voice, "Better than most, in fact. We are willing to spare you-if you will comply with one demand."

The commander shut his optics, knowing what was coming and dreading the choice before him. The hunter hissed into the defeated mech's audial fins, "Renounce your leader forever. Give your allegiance to us and you will live." The words were empty to the mech. Even if they healed him, the shame of betraying his leader and leading five comrades to their deaths would stain him forever.

With a last prayer to his Maker for guidance and forgiveness, he made his decision. He spat a mouthful of energon into his captor's faceplate and stared defiantly into its cold optics. "Long live Megatronus Prime!"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Colony Outpost: Gallimimus, Quadrant 12

"Sector Sweep 12C, Base, do you copy?" The young woman lounging at the battered desk yelped as her com unit crackled to life. Flailing her arms to keep from toppling over, she slapped at the button on the outdated piece of equipment. "Outpost Gallimimus responding. Sector Sweep 12C, what is your status?" She yawned.

"Alert and awake, Ensign, unlike some," the caller sounded amused. Ensign Marge O'Connor flushed clear to the roots of her shaggy hair. "Sorry about that, Captain. We don't see much action out here, see, and a gal gets mighty weary..." "Spare me the dramatics, O'Connor. We're heading in from a survey, and in need of decontamination."

Marge winced. Their detox chamber was...old at best. "Roger that, Sector Sweep 12C," she sighed, "What's your ETA?" "Approximately one hour." Captain C_R42, known to humans as Centurion, replied. "One hour. Noted. What are your coordinates?" O'Connor booted an old laptop into life and entered the answer into the tracking system.

"Looks like there's some kind of particle storm headed your way," she remarked, "I'd pick up the pace if I were you." The com was silent for a moment or two, then the captain answered, "Duly noted. Continue to track our progress in case of incidents," his voice softened, "Don't worry, Maggie. I'll bring everyone home safe." "Sea, go maith 'duine' san áireamh níos fearr leat, leathcheann tú!" the woman muttered rebelliously.

The captain did not reply, and the com unit flickered off. "If you keep sassing superior officers, you're gonna be stuck out here until doom cracks!" The harsh voice was not a surprise to the ensign. She aimed a good-natured kick at the old generator in the corner.

It huffed in irritation, and with a grinding and whirring of gears and sliding metal, it transformed into a bipedal creature about seven feet tall. She braced her servos behind her back and stretched, making a cracking noise. "Oof!" Gigawatt made a face and brushed flakes of rust from her stocky arms. "Lord have mercy, something better happen soon, 'cause I'm just about rusted stiff."

Marge snorted and handed an oil can to Gigawatt. Painted on the side were the smiling faces of Dorothy, Toto, the Cowardly Lion, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. The Autobot was not amused. "One of these days, kid, one of these days..." she warned. Marge snorted. "You love me, admit it." "Of _course_ I do," Gigawatt cooed sarcastically, "The fact that humans look like sparklings doesn't freak me out at _all_, and I just want to pinch your little cheeks!" The rusty old bot sent a jolt of electricity through the laptop, zapping the humans fingers. "Never was the maternal type." she laughed at Marge's irritation.

They bickered back and forth with increasing fervor until they were interrupted by the staccato pulse of the proximity sensors. "Ohhh what the heck what the heck what the heck," Gigawatt muttered, sliding over to look at the monitor. "Sector Sweep 12C, what is your ETA?" she barked, nearly knocking the com over with the force of her shout. O'Connor winced. The laser tripwires were buzzing dully in the early warning zone, 100 kilometers from Outpost Gallimimus.

"Forty minutes, give or take," it was a different voice than before. Gigawatt briefly registered that the speaker was Dean Inoue, one of the human team members. "You sound worried, Outpost Gallimimus," Dean observed, "is there a problem?" Marge hummed an affirmative and stared intently at the screen. "We have a perimeter breach in the early warning zone."

O'Connor kicked off from the desk and sent her chair rolling to the other side of the dark and cluttered room. As she dug through shelves of disused gear, she filled Inoue in on the details. "Two life forms, or maybe one really big one-you know how old scanners can be- crossed the laser lines about ten minutes ago. No faction tags detected."

A murmur of voices buzzed through the speakers, and Inoue handed the com off to the captain. "Say again, Outpost Gallimimus, say again?" Gigawatt scowled. "One or two large life forms, no faction tags, broke the perimeter eleven minutes ago. Nothing on the security came yet, I estimate thirteen minutes before they get here."

"Do you have enough energon for a ground bridge?" the captain asked. There wasn't supposed to be anything on this rock that hadn't come with their freighters. Whatever was headed for the base was an unknown entity, and that worried the captain.

"Energon? Centurion, are you out of your processor?!" Gigawatt scoffed, "I live on crude oil because we barely have enough energon to power the door locks! Only way we're getting out of here is on hover-sled."

Centurion pinched the bridge of his non-existent nose. Primus help him if he had to endure one more tirade about energon rationing... "Shut down all functions save for life support, surveillance cameras, and defense systems. Don't leave the outpost, we're on our way. Maggie," Marge looked up at the sound of her name. "Maggie, for once, don't argue with Gigawatt. Stay inside. 12C out."

Centurion shut down his internal com with a grim expression on his faceplate. "Captain?" One of the Cybertronian members of 12C, a Vehicon femme, looked worried. "Is something wrong?" The captain blew out a heavy exvent. "Endline, tell Inoue to take the others ahead to the base. Everyone needs to have at least one weapon handy, as well as their Ghost Specs."

Endline's crimson optics widened. "Do you think this has anything to do with the attacks in the Kaonian provinces?" she asked. The older mech set his mouth in a tight line. "Let's not jump to any conclusions, Endline. We just don't want to take any chances, that's all. If you get there before me, tell my daughter not to worry, will you?"

He turned and began to scale the Mesa they'd trekked past. "Sir?" Endline exclaimed in surprise, "Where are you going?" The words drifted down as the mech climbed higher: "I'm going to call a Prime."

(Author's notes: whew! Longer than expected! Don't worry to anyone who bothered to read this, recognizable characters are coming. In retrospect, that prologue was creepy and I wish I'd rated it teen...I apologize for any nightmares.)


	3. Chapter 2

Wow! Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I confess, when I read them, I literally ran down the hall to show my friend, squeaking with joy. Made my day! Also, THANK YOU for the constructive criticism. I really do appreciate it, and I'm going to work on using more spaces.

(Now that I've made you all sit through that, on with the show, I guess)

I own only the unrecognizable characters

* * *

Quadrant 12A:

Planet Ismaros

The city shone like a gem from the hilltop, a warm and inviting light beckons travelers toward her. Her gleaming spires and silver domes rose proudly above the lush gardens and farmland below-a testament to hard work and stellar craftsmanship.

Five years previously, when the Allied Exploration units had discovered the planetoids to be hospitable to humans and Cybertronians alike, colonists had flocked to the site to form a kind of shanty town. As the months passed, combined use of resources and manpower (and mechpower) turned the collection of shacks and warehouses into a town.

The town became a city, and the city became a colony within two years. The settlers optimistically named it Eden, although certain members of the population maintained that doing so was about the same as christening a ship "Hindenburg II". In the slowly forming Human/Autobot Territories, Eden stood in for a Capitol until something mor official could be found.

Arcee stared moodily at the garden fountain before her, knees pulled up to her chin. Around her, music drifted through the air, Cybertronians and humans went about their daily tasks and chatted cheerfully as they past each other on the cobblestone pathways.

It was peaceful, idyllic. Arcee wanted to purge her tank, but was immediately ashamed for thinking it. Peace for her people, for Jack's people. Wasn't that what they'd fought for all those years? And yet she hardly saw the members of Team Prime anymore, and only the humans who had ever been in combat seemed to know what to say if she brought up the War.

Jack had begun to spend several afternoons a week-consisting of twelve days on this planet, not seven- with Optimus Prime, learning by observation what he might be expected to do as an honorary Prime, should Optimus ever be called away. Arcee wasn't exactly jealous, but if asked, she wouldn't say she didn't miss spending time with her human.

"What's wrong, Partner?" Jack's gentle voice broke into her thoughts. Arcee grunted. "Who says anything's wrong?" she grumbled. The human laughed and sat down on the worn stone step next to her. "Maybe," he said playfully, "because you're staring at the fountain as if you want to crush it, grind it into a hundred million tiny pieces, and blast it into oblivion?"

The femme's optics lit up at the suggestion. "Can I?" Jack choked on a laugh and cleared his throat in an attempt to sound dignified. "I cannot condone a course of action that might place another in harm's way," he offered. "Oh come on," Arcee snorted, "Who's going to be in harm's way?" The serious facade dropped. "Us, if Mom or Prowl find out we were vandalizing fountains," Jack widened his eyes and held up splayed fingers to emphasize mock horror.

Once his partner cracked a smile, Jack relaxed and leaned closer to her, serious once more. "Come on, 'Cee. We've been partners for three years: I know when something is bothering you!" Arcee lifted her helm and gazed out over the terraced gardens and waterfalls of Eden. "Jack..." she whispered, "Are you happy here?" Jack looked confused until she clarified. "I mean, can you, with utmost certainty, look me in the optics and tell me that you are content to live like this?"

_Ah. So that's what this is about._ Jack thought to himself. He understood why Arcee was asking. She had lived for so long as a warrior that the sudden peace was strange-jarring, even. It was the same for nearly all of Team Prime, really, that's why the Wreckers had volunteered to explore the asteroid belt: they could not see themselves settling down to a farmer or artisan's life.

Arcee mistook her partner's silent contemplation for uncertainty. "Look, I'm not denying that this place is a dream come true. It's everything our peoples could have hoped for when we left Earth. It's just that in only a few years, I get the feeling that life is going to get easier and easier...and I don't think that's a good thing."

Jack stood up and stretched, straightening his blue tunic. "You think they'll become lazy." Arcee shrugged, frustrated. "Maybe, maybe not. Only Alpha Trion can see the future. I can only tell you what I see now." "And what do you see?" her partner asked softly, placing a hand on her arm. "I see a civilization living like those hairy-footed things that live under hills in Raf's book," she said with a bitter chuckle, "And if war ever comes again, no one will be ready."

They stood together like that, watching the setting sun's rays catch the falling water and turn it to living fire. "Optimus knows what he's doing," Jack murmured reassuringly, "I don't think he would let something like that happen." At that very moment, a blue mech came charging up the steps in a clatter of metal, earning some disapproving looms from others who had come to the gardens for solitude and contemplation.

"_Captain-Darby-sir-and-Arcee-oh-my-Primus-this-is-s uch-an-honor!I-have-an-urgent-message-from-the-Pri me!_" The partners stood in bemused silence before Jack asked, "Is he speaking some branch dialect of Cybertronian?" Arcee shook her helm. "No, that's Blurr. He always talks that fast. But I thought," she directed the question to the messenger, "that you were stationed in Quadrant 12B?"

"_No-ma'am-just-got-called-back-in,-I'm-to-run-messa ges-through-the-provinces._" The young soldier looked a little crestfallen. "I swear he's not using real words." Jack muttered. Arcee shrugged and asked Blurr for the message. He took a deep breath, and with a visibly painful effort, forced himself to speak slowly. "The Prime wants you both to meet him at the archives. Something about sending a team to bring reserve energon to one of the 12C outposts." "Ouch." Arcee commented dryly, "That kind of hurt to watch."

Nodding their thanks to the messenger, Arcee and Jack hurried up the rest of the stairs to a walkway several stories above the gardens. Arcee transformed into her vehicle mode, and with Jack clinging to the handle bars, drove as quickly as she dared to the Central Archives building in the heart of Eden. It did not do to keep a Prime waiting.

Blah, mostly dialogue. I'm going to try for more action in the next chapter. How'd I do with spacing? Is this better? (also, I think the font style and size changed and I'm not sure how... Reviews make me do the Happy Dance! (If you've ever seen the way Snoopy dances in "A Charlie Brown Christmas", you probably have a pretty good idea of what the Happy Dance looks like.)


	4. Chapter 3

More dialogue, but this should conclude most of the setup, so we can get into some conflict next time.

I own only the oc's

And I keep forgetting to mention that this is AU

Optimus Prime watched the hustle and bustle of Eden from the window of the archives building. To the casual observer, he seemed like a pillar of strength and wisdom, but one who had known him long enough might have recognized signs of weariness. His shoulders sagged imperceptibly, as if under the weight of some heavy burden.

"You look tired," a feminine voice floated up from near his pedes. Optimus glanced down and nodded politely. "Good evening, Nurse Darby. I am well." The middle aged woman shook her head. "You aren't. When was the last time you rested? And don't give me some excuse about not having time, stubborn mech."

She patted his foot affectionately. "I worry for you she complained, "because you are evidently incapable of worrying for yourself." Her smirk faded. "...Optimus, are you really going to send Jack and Arcee all the way out to Sector 12C?"

Optimus knelt to look the woman in the eye. "It is best that Jackson learns as much as he can about the territories; just as Mikoto and Rafael are learning by travel, so must he." "But it's so _far_!" Nurse Darby's voice cracked, "and you know it's dangerous!"

"June." Optimus's gentle baritone reverberated in the air. "Have I ever knowingly endangered a human?" June mutely shook her head. "Would I ever consciously put Jackson in danger?" He asked her again. The woman closed her eyes and turned away.

"Does Jack really need to go?" she whispered, "You could just send Arcee." She was being selfish, and she knew it. Deep down she would alway trust Jack's godfather, but her mother's heart was warning her of _something_ and she wasn't sure what it was.

"June," Optimus said gently, "I feel as strongly as you the need to shelter and protect our child. We share that responsibility. But you also know that if Jackson is ever to succeed me, it would be advantageous for him to have a knowledge of life beyond Eden. Even if that knowledge brings him into contact with danger."

"I know." Mrs. Darby wrapped her arms around her middle. "I know," she repeated. She turned watery eyes to meet the Prime's optics. "Jack wouldn't care about the danger. He'd face an Insecticon with a sling and a stone if you told him to." Her voice held no accusation, only a wistful acceptance. "I assure you," Optimus rumbled, "that I had no intentions of asking him to do any such thing."

June made a face that might have been the beginning of a smile. She smoothed down her emerald dress and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just...promise me that you'll look after him?" she begged. "Always," said the Prime. This time the human did smile as she turned to go. "Goodnight, Orion," she called affectionately. "Good night, June," the red and blue mech returned with a nod.

But even as the door swished shut behind June, worry crept into Optimus's optics once more. He too had an unmistakable feeling that something was wrong, tugging at his processor. The hum of a motor signaled the arrival of both his SIC and his protege, temporarily pushing his fears away.

"Sir!" Both the boy and the femme skidded to a rather impressive halt as Arcee transformed mid-brake and Jack rolled out of the way. The smothered grins and glances at each other from the corners of optics warned the Prime that there had likely been some mostly harmless shenanigans on the way over, for which there would probably be an uproar later.

He raised his eyebrow at them, but spoke as if he had noticed nothing unusual. "I assume Blurr informed you as to the nature of this summons." Without waiting for a reply, he continued, turning to once again stare out the window as he spoke.

"Some of the outposts in Sector 12C are critically low on energon. There is not enough at present for any viable defense system, or even to sustain a single Cybertronian. You and one other soldier will deliver six reserve cases of synthetic energon to Outpost Gallimimus on the edge of the wastelands, and then return to Eden with to report on the status and functionality of the base."

"You leave in thirteen hours, I suggest getting some rest before you meet with Springer in the hangar. There is one matter, however, that I wish to make perfectly clear before you leave." "What is it, Optimus?" Arcee asked. She glanced down at Jack, who shrugged.

Optimus faced them and answered in a serious, almost stern voice. "Sector 12C is neutral space, shared by the Kaon provinces and the Allied Exploration colonies. You may meet some you once fought against. You must resist the temptation to remember old grudges, for we cannot afford to begin another war."

The pair promised not to start anything-Optimus noted that they didn't promise _not_ to fight if another instigated an incident, and he said so. Jack flushed slightly. "I promise that if there is any faction-related fighting, I will stay out of it," he assured his mentor, "other than trying to talk the aggressors down."

"Take extra caution," Optimus warned them both, "There have been reports of savage attacks by unknown entities in Sectors 12D and E, and the responsible parties could very well have moved to other Sectors. If you witness anything out of the ordinary, or feel uncomfortable at all, you are to bridge yourselves and anyone with you to the nearest fortified location immediately."

He knelt to put one hand on Arcee's shoulder, and scooped Jack up in the other hand. "Be careful, remain alert. You should be ready to leave 12C within a week." He touched the boy's forehead with one massive finger in blessing for a moment, then lowered the human to the ground once more. "May Primus speed you on your journey and bring you home safely." he said gravely.

Hm. Prime sends them to a neutral zone. Tells them not to get into any fights with ex-Decepticons. Oh I see _no_ way this could _ever_ go wrong!


	5. Chapter 4

Standard disclaimer still applies. I own nothing...ok, not quite true. I do have a box full of Autobots (and one lonely Starscream) next to my bed.

Chapter 4

Outpost: Gallimimus

"Captain's back!" Dean Inoue called from his position as lookout. There was a flurry of activity within the cramped warehouse. Inoue hopped down from the window sill and commed the guardhouse, where Marge and Gigawatt were still monitoring the mysterious life forms.

When Inoue and Endline had led Sector Sweep 12C to the base while Centurion called Prime, the mysterious signal had retreated to a nearby mesa. It had waited there until they were all inside, but it was starting to circle closer again.

Apollo, one of the Cybertronians, stepped outside with his plasma cannon at the ready. A gold colored car sped in through the gates, raising a cloud of dust as it did. Immediately the laser lines closed over the gate once more and the car transformed into Centurion.

"Apollo," he greeted the shuttle-Transformer warily, "is everything alright here?" The taciturn explorer nodded once and beckoned the captain inside. Marge had left her post by this time, and no sooner did Centurion sit down on a crate than the girl launched herself at him. He had the presence of mind to catch her before she fell on her face.

"Told you I'd come home safe, didn't I Maggie?" he smiled. "You did, yeah," Marge sat on his hand and beamed up at him, "Mum would've_ killed_ you if you hadn't." Some of the other team members turned away, whether to give them privacy or because they were uncomfortable with Cybertronian/Human families.

"What's the status of the unidentified life forms?" Centurion asked, a bit more business-like now that he was certain his daughter was safe. "They retreated to a mesa, but I think they're coming back, sir." The primary data organizer, Zettabyte, spoke crisply and efficiently, as was her nature. "Did you get a message through?" she asked. The captain nodded.

"I spoke with Optimus Prime," he began, and was soon interrupted by varying exclamations of disbelief. "Mr. High-and-Mighty Prime actually spoke to you?" The speaker was the team's main scout, a woman named Irene Santiago. "I'd have thought he'd be too busy running Eden!" "Yeah, and we're the backwater group!" her Cybertronian partner, Geist, agreed.

Centurion held up a hand for silence. "It's true, I did speak to Optimus Prime. I told him we were critically low on supplies and unable to properly defend our base. He's sending three soldiers with reserve supplies; they'll be here tomorrow." A chorus of cheers filled the warehouse.

Jack, Arcee, and Springer walked through the groundbridge into a dusty red desert. "Looks like Jasper," the femme commented. "Jasper? That backwoods place on Earth you all camped out at?" Springer idly twirled a blaster around his servos. "Would you quit that? You're making me nervous," Jack grumbled.

The green triple-changer shrugged and subspaced the weapon. "Place looks pretty dead." Arcee reached down and shouldered a crate of energon. "Yeah, well Outpost Gallimimus will look the same if we don't get these supplies to them." Springer snorted and took the case from her, ignoring her outraged expression.

"Listen, Sweetspark. No offense, but you don't have the stamina to make a haul like this." Springer placed the box on the ground and transformed into his land vehicle mode, an armored car. "Hey kid, mind loading the crates?" he asked. Jack shrugged as if to say o_h, why not_ and piled the supplies into Springer's interior.

A somewhat nonplussed Arcee had pulled up coordinates to Outpost Gallimimus in the meantime. Once the location was set, she transformed into her motorcycle mode. As soon as Jack was settled, the trio sped away. "So. Springer." Jack remarked casually.

"He's a good soldier, Jack," the femme half-heartedly defended him, "just...overconfident. Like others we've known." The young man smiled, knowing that Arcee was referring to Smokescreen and the days when he used to ramble on about _destiny_. "I'd give him a chance before deciding what you think of him," Arcee advised, "he's a good mech to have at your back."

From ahead of them, Springer shouted back, "Come on, slowpokes! While we're young!" Even in vehicle mode, Arcee twitched. "Overconfident," she repeated, "and disrespectful and rude." "Hmm. Nice guy," her partner muttered dryly, "Either I'm starting to like him, or I'm going to offline him myself!"

Centurion and Apollo stood at the gates of the compound, one watching the mesas and one watching the flatlands. Shading his optics with one hand, Apollo leaned forward and pointed to a cloud of dust on the eastern horizon. "I see it," his captain acknowledged, "here's hoping its the supplies, eh?"

The transport mech nodded solemnly and returned to scrutinizing the surrounding bluffs. "Gigawatt," Centurion commed the guardhouse, "Incoming from the east. What've you got?" "Three signals, all Autobot," the crabby femme replied.

"Wait until they've reached the gate and identified themselves, then release the laser gates." Centurion instructed. He watched the cloud of dust grow larger and solidify into a blue motorcycle with a human passenger and a green armored car. The gold mech waved a friendly greeting as they approached the gate.

"Sector Sweep 12C, I presume?" Jack swung off of Arcee and offered a polite salute to a fellow captain. "That's right. You three bringing a shipment?" the other cheerfully asked. In answer, Arcee removed an energon cube from Springer's interior and held it up to the fence. "See for yourself."

Within moments, the gates were open and Springer had driven through to be unloaded by the humans in the base. Before Arcee could enter the grounds, however, something strange happened. A sound of roaring engines filled the air, and three aircraft flew dangerously low over the ground.

One of them transformed into a scrawny grey and white mech, who snatched the cube from Arcee's hand and flew off again, cackling obnoxiously. "What the?!" Arcee called forth a blaster and aimed it at the retreating figures as Gigawatt belatedly announced three Kaonian spark signatures.

"Well?" One of the humans, a large man with green hair, marched out of the base scowling, "Let's go get those punks!" Arcee shook her helm. "It was just one cube. It's not worth starting a fight over." The human stared up at her incredulously. "You don't get out much, do you?" he asked. "_Petrovych_!" Santiago hissed from inside the base, chagrined, "That's _Arcee_! You don't talk to her like that!"

Arcee was unimpressed. "Why do you say I don't get out much?" she asked calmly. Petrovych pointed at the six crates of energon cubes being moved into the warehouse. "Those crates? That's all we have. We used our last reserves last night to power door locks. Every cube is important, as we cannot count on anyone bringing supplies."

Springer transformed out of vehicle mode and stretched. "Alright, so we get it back, then what? Come on, maybe those guys don't have any energon either." Petrovych looked uncomfortable. "I suppose that could be the case," he admitted, "but the manner in which they took it suggests that they were merely thieves."

"Fair enough," Jack allowed, "that laugh didn't sound like a starving Seeker to me." Centurion grumbled under his breath and ushered his team members back into the compound. "Standing around debating isn't going to bring them back, and I'm not going to risk my team over something stupid like this."

He pointed up at the cliffs. "We've got unidentified, possibly hostile life forms up in the mesas watching the outpost, and I don't need anyone getting killed on my watch!" Arcee looked up at the bluffs and remembered Optimus's warning. If the perpetrators of the Kaon attacks were in this sector, then the thieves were in as much danger as any of them.

"Springer, Jack, let's go." she said firmly, "Those three need shelter too." Endline stepped up, with Inoue perched on her shoulder. "Captain, may we go as well?" the Vehicon asked. Centurion was suspicious, as Endline made no secret of her disdain for most Kaonians.

Reluctantly, he agreed, warning the pair that any hostile actions would be severely dealt with. Arcee and Springer each had a blaster at the ready, aimed in the general direction of the cliffs, while Jack scanned the area for the three Seekers. Nearly an hour later, the three were located in a box canyon some miles away.

Arcee made a show of lowering her weapon before addressing the three young Kaonians. "Hi there. My name is Arcee, and you've got something that belongs to Outpost Gallimimus." The grey and white Seeker squeaked in dismay and hid the half-empty cube behind his back. "No we don't!" he lied.

"Liar!" Endline snorted, "it's behind your wings!" The biggest of the three stepped in front of the lying mech. "Don't call my brother a liar, _Ahtzobaht_!" she snarled. "Well in that case, I can't call him a Kaonian, can I?" Endline retorted.

"Hey!" Jack shouted, catching the combatants' attention, "We are _not_ enemies! We didn't come here to start a fight," he glared sternly at Endline, who backed down after a tense moment. "We came to make sure you have shelter," Arcee picked up where her partner left off, "There are some suspicious life signs stalking the base from the cliffs, and we don't want anyone getting caught out here unprepared."

"Psh!" The third Seeker made a dismissive sound and waved his hand. "We don't need protecting, we're Kaon Province Seekers! Nothing can catch us!" "Except three Cybertronians and two humans on foot, just now," Springer chuckled.

Arcee sighed and addressed the Trine. "Alright, your choice. If you change your mind, you know where to go." Beckoning her team, Arcee turned away and began to leave. "Yeah, run back home, _Ahtzobaht_ Blue-Optics!" The femme Seeker taunted.

Endline froze.

"_Scrap_." Inoue muttered. The Kaonians grinned, pleased to have struck a nerve. Endline smiled back. And promptly punched the Seeker femme in the faceplate. The younger Cybertronian reeled backwards in shock, clutching her face.

"Sunstreaker! Ramjet! She hit me!" she wailed piteously. Her brothers responded with "righteous" indignation, launching themselves at the Autobots. "Autobot brutality! Autobot brutality!" Ramjet fired short laser bursts at them from a wrist-mounted gun. They weren't particularly powerful lasers, but he was persistent.

Jack radioed the base in the fracas. "Outpost Gallimimus, we need a ground bridge," he declared grimly. Arcee pulled Endline away from the fight and pushed her down behind a boulder until the bridge appeared. Once through, the group turned as one to glare at the Vehicon femme.

"Alright, soldier," Arcee said coldly, "This is the part where you tell me what you thought you were doing." "I accept responsibility for my actions." Endline's voice betrayed no emotion. "By which you mean you're not sorry," the superior officer moved to stand in front of the offender, hands on hips. "I'm not asking you if you're sorry, I want to know what you were thinking!"

Endline's jaw tightened. "_Ahtzobaht_. It sounds like 'Autobot', but that's not what they were saying. It's a Decepticon insult. It means "one who is weak."" Arcee's voice remained serious, but softened just a little bit. "I know what it means. I've had it directed at me often enough, after all."

Her voice hardened again. "But that was during the _war_! This is a time of truce. You just started a fight in a neutral space!" Centurion, who had come into the room as soon as they bridged back, staggered back in shock. "She did _what_?!"

Jack folded his hands behind his back. "It sounds like you have a major prejudice against people from the Kaon provinces. I suggest you learn to control your temper so that next time someone insults you, we don't end up with an international incident."

Centurion groaned. "Endline, you're confined to base until further notice," he ordered. The accused snapped a crisp salute, and wordlessly marched out of the room-scarlet optics still blazing with fury. "I apologize," Centurion said, shifting uncomfortably. "Out here, we're more of a family than a military group."

"Don't worry, we know the feeling," Arcee sighed, but gave the mortified commander a weary smile. "I suggest talking to her about her biases though. Take it from someone who knows. It's just going to get worse if it's not dealt with soon."

On the far side of the warehouse, where the rest of the group had been studiously pretending to be invisible, an alarm sounded. Zettabyte tapped the screen, then pounded it. "_Aahhhh! Zhè jiàn shìqíng dàodǐ shì zěnme huí shì_?!" she growled, "There's nothing out there! Stop freaking out!"

Springer wandered over and examined the faulty equipment. "You sure it's malfunctioning?" he asked, "Let me see it." On the battered screen, one untagged blip was disappearing and reappearing. Each time it got a little closer to the perimeter. "Ah great. Just great." Springer turned to shout, "We're going to have company!"

Then the lights went out.

Cliffhanger (sort of) because I felt like the chapter was getting too long. If later on, you decide you like one of the oc's, or hate them with a burning passion, let me know! It's early yet, but it may well effect which characters survive the story and which ones do not. But don't worry, if you like a character, I won't kill it. I'm not Joss Whedon after all.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hello again to you wonderful people still reading this story! I'd like to point out that if I haven't fixed it yet, the mech named "Sunstreaker" in the last chapter is actually supposed to be "Sunstorm". Thank you, EmoPirateLuv, for pointing that out to me. And thank you, UTHEMAN, for your kind and continued reviews!

I own only my oc's...Transformers are property of Hasbro. And the childhood of hundreds.

"What's going on?" Arcee demanded. The backup power hadn't kicked in yet, even after ten seconds of near-total darkness. Springer frowned. "Look, the groundbridge and the monitors are still functioning." He hurried to the console and began pulling up diagnostic programs.

Suddenly, a harsh grating noise began to emanate from the floor. Every weapon available was instantly pointed towards a service hatch next to the northern wall. As they waited nervously, the grate rose to reveal Marge O'Connor and Gigawatt. They looked terrified.

"Dad, something cut the power to the guardhouse!" Marge hissed, scurrying towards Centurion's silhouette. "And we mean _literally_ cut it!" Gigawatt gulped, "There're claw marks the size of my head in those walls!" "Claw marks?!" the others gasped.

"Alright, nobody blow a fuse," Springer turned away from the monitor. "It cut off our electricity but we still have energon-powered defenses. If we need to, we can bridge out." "To where?" It sounded like Santiago's voice, but with only the glow of monitors and optics, no one was sure. "We can't abandon Outpost Gallimimus! We can't even see anything out there anyway. It's just a power failure...no need to be scared.."

Jack twitched irritably. Something was bothering him about this far more than humanity's ingrained fear of the dark. Something _evil_ was out there, he was positive. Sometimes, it seemed like humans were naturally more receptive than Cybertronians to the presence of evil. Jack ran a hand through his short black hair and sighed. _Optimus would know what to do_, he told himself, _what would Optimus do?_

Jack tapped Arcee on the arm in a pattern of four beats, their own private signal for _"We need to talk."_ He led her to a slightly more private section of the warehouse, where she crouched in front of him. "What is it, Jack?" Bathed in the eerie blue glow of Arcee's optics, the young man held a finger to his lips.

"Did you do any reading on the Kaon province attacks before we left Eden?" he asked in a hushed voice. Arcee nodded. "Better safe than sorry," she murmured, "Why?" Jack frowned and shivered, barely perceptibly, but enough that his partner noticed. "Are you cold?" She asked, then noticed that the other six humans in the base looked equally uncomfortable.

Geist seemed to notice to notice the same thing, as he suddenly asked, "A little warm in here, isn't it?" The humans responded with varying questions regarding Geist's sanity and the state of his atmospheric sensors. "It's freezing in here!" growled one of them, a man named Justin Carter, "What's wrong with you?!"

Springer shot Arcee a meaningful look from across the room. In the incident reports from Megatronus Prime's territories, extreme cold was always the last report from the victims before they were attacked. If the humans could feel it, they weren't experiencing sensor failure.

Jack climbed up the stairs to the computer console. "Springer, are our communications online?" he asked quietly. "Gimme a minute, it's sluggish," the soldier replied, "You gotta baby it a little." He then demonstrated 'babying' by kicking the unit.

Centurion moved from team-mate to team-mate in the dark, quietly whispering commands. All five Cybertronians faced the walls with weapons at the ready, while their human partners aimed laser rifles at the doors. The captain strode to the console. "Captain Darby," he said calmly, "Would you mind filling me in?"

The human nodded. "Springer re-routed the energon reserves into a force-field around this warehouse. With your permission, I'd like to contact the nearest fortified settlement with Bridge capabilities." "You believe we should evacuate?" Centurion asked, worry beginning to show in his optics.

Springer cleared his vents nervously. "Not to worsen matters, but the unidentified signals have multiplied." His optics widened and he cursed softly. "I don't believe this! They're shredding through the defenses!" Sure enough, a flickering warning on the screen began to warn of imminent failure.

Centurion turned his gaze to Arcee, as she was the highest ranked individual present. "It's your call," Arcee crossed her arms, "but in any situation where you find yourself dealing with an unknown threat, your first priority is the safety of your team." Centurion nodded. "Make the call," he urged. He then summoned an energon mace and moved to guard the doors.

Jack scanned various data and documents, eyes skimming the Autobot glyphs until he found what he was looking for. "Here," he spoke softly to Arcee, "Keller's Holt on Argos. It's the only place close enough to bridge to." Arcee grimaced. "It doesn't exactly have a stellar reputation Jack," she cautioned.

"Hey," Springer interrupted, "I'll take pirates and scoundrels over the boogeyman any day!" A plaintive-sounding wail from the computer announced the failing of the shields. Fear bubbled and roiled in human and Cybertronian alike.

Jack swallowed hard and sent the communique. "Keller's Holt, this is Captain Jackson Darby at Outpost Gallimimus. We are under attack and require an emergency groundbridge to your location." _"And?"_ The voice on the other end sounded bored.

Jack's eyes narrowed and his voice grew cold. "And we're not stupid. We know there are slavers and pirates in your ports. Any attempt at an ambush on your end and I'll bring the Iacon Guard down on you." The receptionist was suddenly much more polite. _"Optimus Prime's personal guard? You don't say! Sending proper coordinates now, sir. Safe travels!"_

The coordinates flashed up onto the screen and Zettabyte quickly set the groundbridge accordingly. "You are not just a captain," she observed quietly. The human nodded once. "I only pull rank as a desperate measure," he said softly. "Enough chatter, we need to leave!" barked Centurion, herding the others towards the bridge.

Petrovych gaped. "But Captain! Our research, our data-" "-is expendable. You are not." Apollo spoke for the first time, making everyone jump. Despite the imminent danger, Santiago managed to chuckle. "You're so quiet, I keep forgetting you're there, Apollo." Centurion ignored this.

"Standard sweep protocols," he ordered, "One Human, one Cybertronian. Weapons ready, we don't know who's on the other end." He waited until all of Sector Sweep 12C had bridged out before he left. He watched with hard optics as the walls began to buckle and tear beneath the onslaught of the mysterious attackers, then bridged away.

He never heard the animalistic cry of fury that echoed through the shattered base.

From the air, the three young Kaonians watched in horror as the outpost fell in a mass of flames. "They'll blame us for this," Sunstorm whispered soberly. "Not if you both do _exactly_ as I say," his sister growled. She led the other two Seekers to a small asteroid orbiting the desert planet.

"Listen, this is neutral space," Slipstream reasoned in a slightly panicked voice, "We had as much of a right to be here as anyone! If anyone asks, Ramjet does the talking." She elbowed her youngest brother in the tank. He sniffled, working up some coolant tears.

"I just don't know what went wrong!" he whimpered in a childish voice, "We were just playing tag in the canyons, when those Autobots attacked us!" Sunstorm and Slipstream nodded. "Work on the tears," Sunstorm advised, "Because the Prime is going to find out about this sooner or later. I'd rather it was us who told him."

Sunstorm was already too late, unfortunately. Megatronus had already heard about the neutral zone skirmish from Soundwave, and he was furious. He had opened a hailing frequency to any Kaonians in the 12C area to confront those responsible. When he saw the trine, he stifled a curse.

How fitting, he thought. Of _course_ the miscreants would be Starcream's unholy spawn! "M-megatronus P-p-prime, sir!" The scrawny one, Ramjet, looked like he wanted to explain. "Be still!" the former warlord snarled. The young ones cowered before his fearsome visage.

"I fail to understand how this could have happened," Megatronus's voice was deceptively calm. "Have you no duties to perform, that you waste time in other sectors? Is there not danger enough at home that you seek it abroad?" With each accusation his voice grew harsher. "Have you no respect, that you _shame_ our _nation_ by provoking a fight with our allies in neutral space?!"

The Seekers' wings wilted. "Return to Pred'akngard," the angry Prime ordered, "and report to Blitzwing because Primus knows where your Carrier is!" He cut off the transmission with a grunt and whirled to face an image of Starcream. "This is your fault!" he thundered. "Conniving incompetent _fool_! And you've passed those traits to your demonic offspring!"

Seething, Megatronus paced the stone hallway before turning savagely on the SIC again. "It wasn't enough for you to interfere with my plans every step of the war, was it? No, you had to teach your young to do it as well!" Starscream's expression never changed.

"Coward!" The Prime screamed, "Sparkless weakling! I _hate_ you!" Suddenly his expression changed. "Starscream I...I didn't mean that, I swear. It's just that...being a Prime is so much harder than being a warlord. There are rules, standards to follow."

Megatronus shook his helm. "The young ones just don't understand that. I wish you were here to tell them, old friend." He tenderly rested a hand on the carved stone helm of Starscream that adorned his grave. "Primus knows their carrier certainly doesn't do anything to reign them in."

With a weary groan, the massive warrior seated himself beside the elaborate tomb. "I never had the chance to apologize," he said reflectively, "You know, for everything. I would've told you that you were right about me the whole time." He chuckled bitterly. "But then, I get the feeling you knew anyway."

Le Gasp! Starscream is dead?! Well that probably explains why the triplets act out. Poor Megatronus. It's not easy not being mean for a guy like him!


	7. Chapter 6

I own no recognizable characters! I do, however, finally know what the critter who attacked the base is...and it ain't pretty. Wow..this might be my longest chapter yet!

(**_bold italicized=the other end of a comm link)_**

Argus, fifth planetoid from Sector 12's main star

Keller's Holt. In the last two years, it had become a byword for scum and villainy, just as Port Royal had once been known for pirates. This was where those pursued by human law enforcement came to hide, a dirty crowded city full of smugglers, gambling joints, and the occasional high grade bar.

Despite repeated denials, it was commonly suspected that human governments were deporting their worst criminals to Argus, where they usually found their way to becoming Keller's Holt crime bosses. Among the humans and Cybertronians it was even rumored that if one was brave or foolish enough to look, one might occasionally find beings totally alien to the system altogether.

One group that had become a problem in particular was a shadowy group that dealt with human and Cybertronian trafficking. No one ever saw them or knew what they looked like, but they were rumored to come from some distant world called _Nal Hutta_. Their spies were said to be everywhere, from restaurants to rooftops.

This was the city that Sector Sweep 12C had chosen to flee to.

The moment the bridge was opened, all team members were on high alert, guns at the ready. Jack knew that pulling rank might have had potentially negative consequences. Say, for instance, if the local mob decided to see how much ransom money could be obtained should they desire to kidnap him. His stormy grey eyes swept over the dingy alley, with graffiti, drunks, and florid neon lights.

"An _alley_?!" Springer nearly shouted in disbelief, "What happened to 'safe travels, sir'?!" Endline scowled as well. "I don't like it. Feels like a setup to me." Arcee gritted her denta and charged up her blasters. No sense being unprepared after all.

Unholstering a small caliber shock pistol, Jack crouched in a defensive position next to Petrovych. "Switch on your Ghost Specs," the young captain advised, "Illegal cloaking devices are supposed to be pretty common out here, aren't they?" The larger man scoffed. "_Anything_ that's illegal is pretty common out here, Captain."

Jack grinned ruefully and charged his Ghost Specs, tuning the pale purple lenses to search for hidden life forms. "I've read plenty of reports and watched footage from places like this, but there really isn't a substitute for actually being there, I guess," he remarked. The older man smiled back, teeth standing out in the darkness.

He motioned to the piles of garbage the team was using as a temporary hiding place. "Lucky you, then. You get to experience Keller's Holt in all its...ah ..._glory_." The last members of the team, Luis Coron and Centurion appeared out of the swirling green vortex behind them. "Everyone here?" Arcee asked brusquely, "Good. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."

"Remind me, ma'am, why are we here?" Coron asked gruffly. He was pointing his rifle at every shadow in the alley, being as unused to such places as most Edenites were. Arcee brushed past Springer and crouched at the alley entrance, taking stock of the busy street.

"There wasn't enough energon in Outpost Gallimimus to bridge us all to Eden. Keller's Holt was the only city in the vicinity with Space Bridge technology," she explained, motioning for them to follow her. "Once we can get to a more secure location, we'll contact Eden and find out what to do next."

Centurion shook his helm and held Marge close to his spark. "Then once we get to Eden, I'll have to file a double incident report. We'll also need to report to the head of the Exploration Unit in Sector 12B." The others groaned. "We all know what that means," Geist grumbled, "Paperwork."

Arcee and Jack exchanged incredulous glances. They were temporarily stranded in a hostile city, and they were worried about _paperwork_? Springer said aloud what his comrades were thinking. "You guys really need to sort out your priorities! If we get caught out here, faction tags won't protect us from pirates, slavers, chop-shop dealers or assassins."

The grumbling ceased entirely at this "encouragement", and the team cautiously made their foray into the market district. They passed rows of tall buildings that were so close together that even a child would have a difficult time squeezing through. Garish lighted signs hung everywhere, brazenly advertising casinos, high grade oil and alcohol, and several far more unsavory establishments.

On Centurion's orders, the group huddled together with the humans in the middle, hoping to afford them some measure of protection from the degrading nature of the slums. Springer walked ahead of the group, questioning the more honest-looking citizens about secure places.

Geist hurried up to walk next to Centurion. The orange mini-bot cleared his vents. "Hey boss?" he asked quietly. "What's wrong, Geist?" "How does the chain of command work for now? We're not used to this 'sir, yes sir' business," the scout whispered. Centurion smiled at him.

"To be honest, Geist, I don't think they are either. For as long as we're with Arcee and Captain Darby, you'll still answer to me, but I'll have to answer to her," the captain explained. "So in other words, play nice or else you'll get in trouble?" Marge piped up from below. Her father jostled her playfully.

"It's more like, _you'll_ get in trouble, but _I'll_ take the consequences," he amended. It wasn't procedure, but it was how Centurion operated. He and his team were as much a family as Team Prime was, and Jack couldn't help but smile as he watched them interact. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?" he asked. Arcee nodded distractedly. "We've got watchers on three roofs, Jack," she murmured, "Been there for the last two streets."

Sure enough, there were three cloaked figures wearing night vision goggles staring down at them. "Ok, we need to move," Jack remarked casually, "Like, right now." He and Arcee snapped into action. "Captain, we're nearing a main road. I suggest transforming to better protect everyone," Springer had returned. "If we follow it for about two miles, it will lead us to the edge of the city. It's pretty much just scrubland beyond that."

Centurion set Marge down and turned to Apollo. "Do you have enough room to transform?" The flier responded by switching to his vehicle mode with minimum crowding. "Apollo transports us little guys," Santiago relayed to Arcee, "Particularly if space is involved." As soon as Geist, Gigawatt, Santiago, Petrovych, Coron, Carter, Inoue and Marge were safely aboard, Apollo launched himself into the air.

Zettabyte transformed into a pink and brown helicopter to follow them. "Be careful, we'll meet you on the outskirts of town," Centurion called. "Go with them, Springer," Arcee motioned towards the sky. With a jaunty salute, the green mech switched to his own helicopter mode to provide backup support. The remaining ones, Arcee, Jack, Endline and Centurion rolled out as quickly as possible.

Jack turned in his seat to watch behind them. "Those guys are still up there, watching," he reported grimly, "I don't like it!" "Yeah? Well I bet you'll like this even less," Arcee sighed, "We were supposed to contact Optimus three hours ago." Jack winced. Faced with the prospect of reporting to his godfather (and very likely Prowl and his mother as well), the events of the past twelve hours seemed much more serious than before.

As they reached the barren heath beyond Keller's Holt, Jack slipped off of Arcee. His boots made no sound in the springy moss-like plants. "Alright, I'm going to contact Eden. Let me know when everyone is here," he looked a little worried. Centurion transformed and promised to keep watch.

Jack walked a little ways away from the others and brought out what looked like a small iron spike. He planted it firmly in the turf, then extended it upwards like a telescope. Placing his personal communication device at the top of the spike, he opened a web of holograms in the air and cycled through until he found the appropriate frequency.

"Captain Jackson Darby, clearance level 9, requesting an audience with Optimus Prime," he spoke firmly, but his hands twitched in a combination of nerves and exhaustion. The hologram wavered once, breaking into millions of tiny blue and white spheres. Then it resolved itself into the unmistakable features of Optimus Prime.

His normally expressionless face betrayed a hint of worry in his optics. Still, his voice was the same regal-yet welcoming- basso it had always been. "_**Captain**_," he greeted calmly, "_**you were meant to report earlier. What has happened?"**_Jack cut to the chase. "I need to make an incident report, sir. Two of them, actually. I also need to request a Space Bridge to our coordinates lest I end up having to make a third incident report."

The Prime leaned his helm back and raised his eyebrows expressively. _**"I assume the mission did not go as planned."**_Jack shook his head and glanced away guiltily. From his kiosk in Eden, Optimus suppressed a wince at this behavior. He knew that look. That was the look that meant something had happened that would be much worse when June found out.

The boy briefly explained what had happened at Outpost Gallimimus and why they were currently on Argos. In the background, Optimus could faintly see Endline looking ashamed of herself when Jack reported the neutral zone skirmish. As was typical of the honorary Prime, he took responsibility for the failure of the mission. Optimus certainly agreed that they needed to leave Argos, however.

It was one thing to send Jack and Arcee out to experience life outside of Eden in what was meant to be a delivery-only mission. To let them stay longer than necessary in a place known for daily muggings, murders, and mayhem. That was something else entirely!

"I shall arrange for a bridge momentarily," the Prime stated. He frowned slightly. "I do not doubt that Megatronus has already learned of this incident. I may have to speak to him regarding the state of the truce." "_**I know**_," Jack said meekly. Optimus nodded, and his optics softened for a moment. "I am...very glad that you are safe, Jackson. I am glad that all of you survived this disturbing encounter."

Some of the weariness left Jack's countenance, and he straightened his posture just a little. "_**Thank you, sir."**_Behind him, Centurion reported the approach of the fliers and the humans. "The bridge should arrive at any moment," Optimus rumbled. "As soon as you have all landed in Eden and sought medical attention, you are to report to me. I believe your mother has something of importance to discuss with you."

Jack saluted and signed off, leaving Optimus to stare at a blank screen. He sighed. There was no use putting it off, he was going to have to call Megatronus about the attack. Optimus left the communications kiosk and strode down the many corridors and lifts of the archives building until he came to a laboratory. Several different voices emanated from within, playfully arguing.

Optimus stepped inside and smoothly ducked a small wrench that went flying over his helm. Ignoring the bits and pieces of equipment scattered about, he headed for the Space Bridge controls. Halfway across the room he sidestepped to avoid squishing two humans who were apparently having a wrestling match to determine who got to intimidate their sister's new suitor.

Behind his impassive mask, the Prime smiled. The Esquivel family seemed to be able to take the coldest, most austere chambers and turn them into something warm and welcoming merely by their presence. The patriarch of said clan was, at that moment, sitting at the controls and pretending that the chaos surrounding him did not exist.

"Good evening, Prime," he bobbed his head in greeting. "Good evening, Mr. Esquivel," Optimus returned, "I'm afraid I have need of the space bridge." The man stood and stretched. "Of course! Where do you need to go?" Optimus explained that first a bridge would need to be sent to Argos to rescue Sector Sweep 12C, and that he might need a second bridge to Kaon. Diego Esquivel cracked his knuckles and got to work.

"If you were wondering where the good Doctor is," he said suddenly over his shoulder, "He's out with Raf and the girls conducting a somewhat incendiary experiment. You'll probably get the incident report later." There really didn't seem to be a proper reply to the statement, so Optimus settled for double checking the coordinates of the bridge.

Satisfied that the stranded team would be able to make it home safely, the red and blue mech sent an internal comm message to Pred'akngard. _**'It has come to my attention that there was an incident between our respective peoples. Do we need to meet in person to negotiate?'**_ Several minutes later, he received the reply:_** 'Sorted. Come if you want.'**_ Optimus's optics crinkled at the corners.

Hundreds of years as a warlord, politician, and celebrated orator, and Megatronus still couldn't send a proper glyph message to save his life. As the Space Bridge hummed to life, the Esquivel boys ceased their mock fight and scrambled up the scaffolding so as not to be underfoot. The swirling vortex spat out first two, then six, then eight Cybertronians and seven humans. "Evening," Mr. Esquivel said pleasantly.

The assembled team barely replied, as most of them were staring wide-eyed and starry-opticed at the Prime in the room. The humans looked a little star-struck, as a matter of fact. Arcee stepped out of the knot of beings. "Optimus, In light of recent events, my report on the functionality of Outpost Gallimimus may be moot."

"Understood, Arcee. You may make your report to Prowl or Nurse Darby, if you wish. Or you could wait until I return." "Return?" Jack asked, "Where are you going?" "Pred'akngard, to speak with the Kaonian Prime," the reply hung ominously in the air. As the Space Bridge warmed up again, Optimus noted Jack and Arcee's worried expressions. Marge noticed that the huge warrior took something from his armor and handed it to the young captain, after which Darby visibly relaxed.

"What's that?" Marge asked, peeping over Jack's shoulder. It wasn't much, just a hand-sized metal object, intricately carved in the likeness of the key to Vector Sigma. Jack flushed, caught off guard. "This? It's not really...it's kinda..." He glanced up at Optimus, who was preparing to leave. "It's like a promise, I guess. That he'll come home, I mean." Marge didn't understand the significance of the words or the key, but she saw that she'd embarrassed the captain and backed off.

"I should return before tomorrow," Optimus remarked vaguely before stepping through the bridge. Once through, he found Megatronus sprawled across a massive carved throne in a hall that looked more Viking than ex-Decepticon. An air of barbaric splendor permeated the chamber, completed by examples of heraldry using Predacons. They were the work of Pred'akngard's few human inhabitants.

Eradicons, Vehicons, and Seekers alike all stood at long low tables in rows before the dais. All of them were staring at the Autobot who had seemingly just materialized in the middle of the Great Hall. There were several minutes of very awkward silence before Megatronus nodded his helm. "Brother," he said by way of greeting. The Kaonians took this as permission to continue whatever they had been doing before.

Megatronus beckoned Optimus to join him, and offered him a beaker of synthetic energon that had apparently been mixed with several other chemicals, as it now had an unusual orange glow to it. "What are you drinking?" Optimus stared suspiciously at the liquid. The larger mech grinned savagely and tossed it back in one gulp. "Honestly, I have no idea," he admitted. He held the empty beaker up to one optic as if examining the residue inside.

"I learned long ago not to ask too many questions when Knockout is in a culinary mood. In the tradition of the human culture parallel to ours, he calls this 'mead'." Optimus gingerly moved a second beaker out of his more volatile brother's reach. There was no shame in being cautious, he thought. Especially if one had lived long enough on earth to see what might happen if an overabundance of the drink was imbibed.

"About the incident," he began, but Megatronus cut him off with an impatient gesture. "I know all about it. It wasn't unprovoked." He threw a meaningful glance behind the throne where the three miscreants from before were standing at attention. Optimus turned with a start. "By the Allspark," he smiled, "those can't be Starscream's triplets! When last I was here, they had barely developed their secondary armor!"

Ramjet waved shyly, Sunstorm glanced away guiltily, and Slipstream stared straight ahead. Megatronus grumbled something under his breath and turned to face Optimus once more. "The skirmish broke out due to the actions of children, and I would ask that you see them as such." "Of course, brother. Primus knows I've seen my share of impulsive Younglings," Optimus reassured him.

"Actually, I had come to apologize for the actions of the one who struck first," he added. Slipstream's scowl deepened behind them, but a stern look from her Prime warned her not to speak. "As I said before, it was not unprovoked," the former warlord sighed. Standing, he took Optimus by the arm and guided him out of the chamber into a corridor.

"_I have heard that the attacks have spread to 12C_," he whispered. Optimus frowned. "It is early yet, but the incident at Gallimimus seems to have all the characteristics of the other massacres." "Except that this time there were survivors," Megatronus observed. Suddenly he chuckled. "I hear they transported to Keller's Holt! What did the Boy think of that?"

There was no need to ask who "the Boy" was. Megatronus always referred to Jack as "the Boy", and June as "The Woman". He viewed them as a strange sort of extended family through Optimus, and enjoyed exasperating The Woman. "He handled it well," Optimus replied simply. "He's due to Metamorphose soon, isn't he?" The other Prime's query was innocent enough, but it was a controversial subject.

As the humans and their Cybertronian allies spread into the Sector 12 territories, it had become abundantly clear that the children of Earth vastly outnumbered the children of Primus. The disparity between comparative lifespans began to greatly disturb those who had been integrated into human families. Many were unable to accept the idea that they would only have a few short Cybertronian years with their organic allies. Thus the concept of 'Metamorphoses' was born.

Upon reaching physical maturity at the minimum age of twenty-one, any human who wished might undergo the lengthy process of changing species. The subject would spend four lunar months encased in a tube of Cyber-Nucleic Acid-usually donated by an adopted parent or sibling- and a serum of an undisclosed nature to sustain him.

Over the first two months, the body would exchange flesh and blood for metal and energon, during which the subject would remain sedated to minimize discomfort. Over the third month, armor and processor would form relative to the age of the recipient. By the fourth month, the former human would be an almost completely adjusted Cyber being. Overexposure to the CNA would result in regression to one's Cybertronian mental age, rather than one's human mental age.

Having come from Earth, or 'Aartar' in Cybertronian, the Metamorphosed humans chose as a group to refer to themselves as Cybaartarians." Not surprisingly, there were mixed feelings about the process, which was why Optimus did not wish it to be common knowledge that the honorary Prime planned to switch species.

"Where did you hear that Jackson was going to Metamorphose?" Optimus asked warily. The warrior shrugged. "A little bird told me?" He smirked. "That is not amusing, brother. That is _very_ sensitive information-" "-and I'm family, of a kind. Am I not allowed to know? We are not at war anymore, Optimus." Megatronus tried to look earnest and well-intentioned, but the truth was that he looked like an Insecticon with a headache.

Optimus sighed. There was a reason he didn't visit Pred'akngard very often.

Oooh...family dynamics. Actually, there is a ton going on in this chapter. I apologize if anyone gets confused because of this. Gah! So much exposition! I'm sorry about the exposition, but I promise it will be important later in the story.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**(again, this is AU. Also, ****_somebody_**** is a wee bit out of character this time. And he hates me for it.)**

**I own nothing, but I love Transformers!**

_"There are too many of them! We must retreat!" The ground shook with the force of the explosions, painting the sky a lurid red. Decepticons fled aimlessly in their panic, desperate to escape the stone giant. One unlucky spark was picked up between two fingers and crushed like an insect. Another was flung, screaming, through the air before coming to rest on the tip of a spear-like rock, impaled. Shockwave fired a few ineffectual rounds at the titan, then turned callously away from his comrades' suffering._

_"Where are you going?" a Vehicon screamed, one of his legs snapped off at the knee. "Failure is assured, resistance is illogical," the soulless monotone replied. The Decepticons nearest to Shockwave shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to agree or disagree with the dangerous mech. And so they looked to Starscream. Of all soldiers, he was sure to want to live. Perhaps he would order a retreat. _

_They were wrong._

_"Coward!" he spat, and the venom in his voice startled them all. "That's Unicron! Do you imagine that hiding will pacify him?!" He turned his blood-red optics back to the battlefield. "I'd rather go down fighting than make a deal with the devil!" He transformed and rocketed back into the massacre, scanning for one particular spark._

_Megatron stood frozen, trapped in the violet gaze of the Destroyer. __**"Kneel, worm!"**__ His insidious voice echoed in the warlord's mind. Sluggishly, he moved his hands to his helm. "No..." he hissed weakly, "You don't own me!" Pain shot through his processor as the beast laughed. _

___**"I will always own you! Do you not see the energon that stains your hands? What of Tyger Pax and the younglings that lie dead there? What of your greed, your ambition? You serve me and only me!"**__ Shame filled Megatron, and he started to lose the will to fight back. Unicron was right. He had no reason to stand tall, he was just a murderer. Any moment, surely Primus would realize this and rescind his blessing. Just as his knees began to give out, a slender form was at his side, supporting his weight._

_"Lord Megatron will never kneel to you!" a raspy voice declared, "You have no more power over him!" Starscream stood at his master's side once more, ready to fight-and this time, there would be no retreat. Megatron stared uncomprehendingly at the mech he had come to expect nothing but treachery from. The SIC turned to look his leader dead in the optics. "You don't belong to him anymore, Megatron. He can not hurt you anymore than you let him!" _

_Megatron pushed the smaller mech away with a snarl. "Run, Starscream. As you always have. We cannot change what we are." His mighty shoulders began to fall beneath the accusations of Unicron. Even as the Destroyer laughed, Starscream growled in frustration and shook the mighty warrior fiercely. "You have changed what you are! What you cannot change is who you were meant to be!"_

_"And who was I meant to be?" Megatron asked bitterly. Something flared in Starscream's optics, some indescribable emotion. "A Prime," he said softly, "A leader of loyal followers, a mech of honor!" "A Prime..." Megatron echoed in a hushed voice, fingers rising of their own accord to touch the symbol so recently carved into his helm. Sudden understanding flooded his spark, and courage filled him again. Starscream nodded._

_He gave a mighty heave, and the warlord stood steady on his own pedes once again. "Go back to the Pit, Unicron!" he shouted, "You have no claim on me!" With a hideous roar, the stone avatar called forth a massive blade. __**"Had you continued to pay me homage, I might have spared you! Now, follower of Primus, you will die!"**__ The blade moved swiftly-almost too quick to see._

_The silver mech prepared himself, but the blow never came. There was a sickening crunch, and a strangled sound escaped his lips when he saw his second-in-command impaled on the end of the sword. "S...Star...scream..." he gasped. His one-time rival slowly swiveled his helm, shuddering in pain. With a Herculean effort, he raised his arm in a salute that looked more like a benediction. And smiled. "Til...all...are...one!" he whispered, then triggered the detonation of his arm-rockets._

"NO!" Megatronus's optics snapped online, and his hand automatically went to his spark chamber, feeling the phantom blade that had claimed Starscream's life. With a shuddering gasp, the mighty warrior hauled himself off of his recharge bunk. There would be no more rest this night.

His thoughts returned to the conversation he'd had with Optimus before his brother had returned to Eden. They had quietly discussed the strange attacks on the outpost for some time before Optimus had brought up the border skirmish again. He had asked how Megatronus had handled the situation, and whether he'd been too harsh to put the trine on complete flight restriction. After all, the triplets were "only younglings."

Megatronus didn't think that he'd been too hard on them. Why couldn't they see that he was just trying to protect them? _Those three had no recognizable sense of self-preservation!_ What if they started another fight, but with someone less honorable than an Autobot? What if they ran into that gang from Nal Hutta and got shipped off to who-knows-where as a collector's item?

Starscream's children had no common sense: it was up to him to make sure they didn't die young. _Like their sire?_ his mutinous processor whispered. And there it was. He hadn't saved Starscream. His first act as a Prime had been failure, and he had rashly sworn to protect his fallen comrade's family as a result.

Megatronus groaned and left his chambers, lost in thought. Sunstorm, at least, had a good idea of when to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, he was overconfident in his abilities, and tended to disregard restrictions. Ramjet was too timid. He'd do or say anything if he thought it'd keep someone from being angry with him. And Slipstream...what was he going to do with Slipstream?

She was so like her sire in some ways, with her penchant for sneakiness and back-up plans. Yet she had her carrier's sarcastic defiance. Not that Airachnid even noticed her daughter's personality. The only person the spider-femme cared about was herself.

As was occasionally his habit after flashbacks, Megatronus found his pedes leading him to Starscream's memorial. To his mild surprise, Slipstream was there, curled up between the statue and the wall. "Youngling?" the Prime asked as gently as he could, which still sounded like someone sharpening iron.

The femme leapt to her pedes, startled, and saluted crisply. "Sir! I didn't know anyone else was awake. I...I won't disturb you sir." Megatronus saw in Slipstream's optics a desperate need for approval, making him slightly regret the way he'd spoken to her and her brothers earlier. "At ease, Little One," he sighed.

She relaxed a little, but her wings were trembling. _Oh, blast me for an old soft-sparked fool!_ Megatronus thought, _Alright Optimus, I'll try it your way._ He crouched before the small seeker. "Trouble recharging?" Shamefaced, the youngling nodded. "Me too." Slipstream looked astonished. Megatronus Prime couldn't sleep either?

The Prime motioned her to sit beside him. Cautiously, she obeyed. "You've... grown up a lot, you know," Megatronus said awkwardly, "Sometimes I have trouble believing you and your brothers are even old enough to fly." _Apparently we're not, seeing as you grounded us!_ Slipstream thought rebelliously. The mech's voice broke into her internal rant. "You were too young to remember the War."

"I remember you bringing Dad's body home," she muttered, preferring to use human words to express her feelings. "I remember being confused because he wouldn't wake up. I remember Mom saying he had become weak, and probably deserved it!" her voice rose in fervor and pitch. "I remember her abandoning us on the Nemesis, next to his lifeless husk! I remember holding my brothers, knowing that I had to stand up for them now because _no one else would!_"

Megatronus could have kicked himself. He hadn't intended to stir up _those_ memories. But perhaps some good could yet come of it. "What if you had hurt or killed someone yesterday in 12C?" The small femme looked at him strangely. "Speak your mind, Slipstream," he said, warning himself in advance not to be offended.

"With all due respect, sir...why this concern about Autobots? We are Kaonians! We are proud warriors, we don't back down. We fought many battles-" "And where is it written that that's a good thing?" the elder interrupted. "Megatron was Kaonian. He was proud, but he was cruel, and idiotic and so he fell. Megatronus must learn everyday what it means to be a Prime: to be responsible for the lives under his care."

He laid a hand on Slipstream's shoulder, and felt her tense up. "If Optimus were not such a gentle soul, there very well could have been war. There could have been more younglings whose parents never came home. Do you understand that, Little One?"

He stretched out his right arm. "Did you know that I have a blade equipped in this arm? No, I suppose you didn't. I have fought in so many battles, been...damaged so many times, I can no longer summon it. Knockout does his best, of course, but I have built up centuries of scar mesh from all my injuries. Sometimes, during particle storms, I can bring out my sword, but not without pain. Do you see? War is not glorious."

"But in the stories and ballads-" Slipstream began to protest. Megatronus shook his helm. "I once thought the same, but now I know. They became the Kaonians' way of coping with the truth." His voice grew old for just a moment as his optics were drawn to the statue of Starscream. "There is adrenalin, yes. But there is also fire and pain and death, and the knowledge that when you go home, some of your friends aren't going to be there."

"It sounds like the Pit," the youngling whispered, horrified. "Precisely so," Megatronus agreed morosely. He stood, towering over Slipstream once more. "Get some rest, Little One," he commanded, not unkindly. "Tomorrow we will discuss taking you off of flight restriction-provided you can show me that you are responsible enough." Slipstream's jaw dropped, and she nearly put her optic out with the rapidity of her salute. As she scurried down the corridor, Megatronus turned his gaze back to Starscream's impassive face.

"Not a word out of you," he growled, "This never happened!" With a heavy exvent, he stretched and returned to his quarters. Honestly, he wasn't sure how he had done it. That he had managed to have a rational conversation with Slipstream without one of them losing their temper was nothing short of a miracle!

He blamed sleep deprivation.

**Short chapter compared to the last two, I know, and mostly dialogue again. I wanted to put Megatron in a situation where yelling won't fix the problem...I'm kind of terrible that way, but I have this thing where in any story I write, I always leave a way for the bad guy to redeem himself. A bit like Flannery O'Connor, I guess, but usually without the violence.**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Thanks for everyone who has stuck with the story so far! Hasbro owns Transformers, I don't, but I do remember that right after the live movie first came out, I passed a white-and-yellow ambulance, a black GMC Chevy Topkick, a yellow Camaro with black stripes, and a blue and red Peterbilt with flame decals...all at the same traffic light. I don't know if it was publicity of what, but now I'm rambling. Sorry! Back to the story!**

Planet Ismaros

City of Eden

Centurion stood on the marble steps of the Archive hall with Arcee, Jack, Springer and the rest of his team. He stretched, a few of his back struts making popping noises. "What a night," he groaned. Rotating his shoulders to work out the kinks, he turned to the rest of his group. They looked as worn out as he felt, and he smiled. "Alright, you sorry lot," he chuckled, "go on and get some sleep. I'll do the reporting, and meet you all later." "You sure, Cap?" Coron started to ask, but was interrupted by Santiago's huge yawn. Everyone snickered a little at her sheepish expression.

"You too, Springer, Jack," Arcee advised, "I'll report to Prowl and catch you at the memorial gardens for debriefing later." "Never argue with a superior officer," Springer conceded readily before turning his attention to the pretty Zettabyte. "So, anyplace around here you want to see? I could give you a private tour." Apollo scowled and "accidentally" bumped into the green triple-changer as he walked by, sending the unfortunate would-be flirter into a pillar. The quiet fellow made an apologetic look and "helped" him up. "That is kind of you," Zettabyte said in reply to Springer's query, "but I will be with Endline and Irene and Gigawatt, finding a place to stay."

Slowly, the group dispersed until it was just Marge, Centurion, Arcee, and Jack. Centurion shaded his optics to look at the sun. "Near midmorning. Your mother'll be teaching by now. Why don't you wait for her at the school while I finish up here? It could be a while." Marge rubbed her eyes and nodded. "Alright then, Da, I'll be seeing you," she mumbled, swaying a little. Jack smiled, reminded suddenly of Miko during late night video game tournaments. "Captain, may I walk your daughter to her destination?" Jack asked politely. From the looks of things, if someone wasn't with her, Marge would fall asleep right in the middle of the road!

The captain nodded with an easy smile, although his optics held a protectiveness that was comfortingly familiar with the boy. He'd seen it often enough in the eyes of his mother and the rest of Team Prime. With a courtly half-bow, Jack offered Marge his arm. "Which way, Miss O'Connor?" "Mum is teaching first years at Bryce Memorial Academy," the young woman pointed down several city terraces to a city district characterized by buildings carved of living stone.

As the young humans walked in comfortable silence, towering metal structures gave way to closely grouped stone complexes vaguely reminiscent of pueblos. Gardens and trees decorated every available space, filling the air with the fragrances of summer. Down one of the many cozily narrow streets, overhung with clothes lines from second and third story windows, they found Bryce Memorial Academy.

It was a prestigious sounding name for a six-room schoolhouse. Students were sorted by physical and emotional maturity, as the two native species counted age so differently. Marge led Jack into a sunny back room filled with about twenty students, with humans only slightly outnumbering sparklings. A cheerful middle-aged woman stood in front of the class: this was Abigail O'Connor, Marge's mother.

Mrs. O'Connor stood next to a screen depicting a well-dressed Asian man. "Who is this?" she asked. A little girl with ribbons woven into her braids waved her hand timidly. "Uplink?" the teacher acknowledged. "Um, that's Principal Santisakul," Uplink Williams said shyly. "That's right! This is Principal Santisakul! Now, can anyone tell me where he's from?" A little boy, almost identical to Uplink, shot his hand into their air. Almost before he was called on, Download Williams crowed, "He's from Thailand!"

Mrs. O'Connor beamed. "Absolutely right! Now class, lets say I'm in the hall, and Principal Santisakul asks me where the water fountain is." She spread her arms expressively.

"Do I _point_ to show him?"

"Noooo!" the students chorused enthusiastically.

"_No_?" The teacher giggled. "What do I do then? Anyone? Corbin?" The round yellow and green sparkling made a gulping noise before squeaking, "You gots to wave wif your whole hand!" Jack grinned from the back of the room at the sparkling's adorably butchered English. Like any other child learning a first language, grammar was proving to be a little tricky for Corbin.

"My whole hand?" the teacher pretended to be confused. "But why? Where I come from, we point with fingers!"

"But it's rude to Principal Santisakul!" protested another student, twirling her pigtails around her fingers. "Yeah!" Another child agreed, "And you have to be 'spectful because he's older than you!"

"Very good, Carly and Sari. Exactly right!" She turned to the rest of the class. "Okay guys, what did we just do? What is that called?" Marge smothered a giggle as her mother performed an elaborate pantomime. "Remember? We put on our Thinking...what?" "_CAP_!" The little ones screamed en masse.

"Yes! C.A.P.! Somebody tell me what C.A.P. is!" In the excitement of the moment, a very small red sparkling stood on her chair and shrieked, "_Culchurawwy Aprobibate Pwaktiss_!" Mrs. O'Connor laughed. "Culturally Appropriate Practice, good job Twirl! Why is Culturally Appropriate Practice important, class?"

As one, the sparklings and human children chorused: "_Because everyone in Eden comes from somewhere different, and we love our neighbors_!" A chime rang, signaling the end of class. "Ok guys, recess!" Mrs. O'Connor shooed them out a side door and into a sunny yard, then turned to her guests. "Didn't mean to interrupt, Mum," Marge apologized.

She was quickly swept into a crushing hug. "Maggie, lass! I didn't know you were coming home so soon! Where's your da?" As Marge was gasping for breath, Jack took the liberty of answering for her. "Centurion is probably still up at the Archives hall, making his incident reports." He held out a hand. "I'm Captain Darby, ma'am. I assume you are Mrs. O'Connor?"

The woman shook the proffered hand vigorously. "That I am, dear. You can call me Abigail. Now then, you said 'incident reports'? Something happened at the outpost?" Marge extricated herself from her mother's arms. "There kind of isn't an outpost anymore, Mum. It got demolished or something... Also, we got temporarily marooned in Keller's Holt."

Jack had thought that he'd known how scary a worried mother could get just from his own experiences. He quickly realized how mild of an experience he'd always known as Abigail nearly exploded. "_Keller's Holt_?!" she howled, her face reddening. There followed a long tirade, mostly in Gaelic, demanding answers, and why-wasn't-she-told, and oh-just-wait-until-your-father-gets-home and the like.

Finally, she collapsed into one of the little chairs, holding a hand to her head. "My poor baby! Is everyone alright?" When her daughter confirmed that the worst anyone had were bumps and bruises, she calmed somewhat. "Forgive me, Mrs. O'Connor," Jack said gravely, unconsciously mimicking his godfather, "It was my decision to bridge to Keller's Holt. They were the nearest port with Space Bridge capabilities." Abigail's eyes softened.

"Think nothing of it, lad. You don't look like the type to put others in danger. I'm sure your parents will be very proud of you." Jack blushed and muttered something about the chances of surviving once his own mother found out he'd gone to Keller's Holt. This would only reinforce the belief she had that Argus was the Elephant Graveyard from the Lion King and an Old West bar-room-brawl just waiting to happen, all rolled into one.

The hum of an engine outside heralded the approach of Centurion, who activated his holomatter avatar before entering the school. To the casual observer, he seemed like an average human male of European descent, perhaps fifty or so years of age. "Abigail?" he asked, voice containing a hint of trepidation. Then he too was crushed in a patent Mrs. O'Connor embrace.

"Would it be asking too much for you to call me when something like this happens, you great nuisance?" Abigail's voice was muffled against Centurion's shoulder. The captain smiled and held her tightly. "I'm sorry, love. It only happened last night, you see. I didn't have time to call you until we were safely out of Keller's Holt."

"I should probably get going," Jack whispered to Marge, "I know you and your family are going to need some time to unwind. I hope everything turns out alright." He nodded courteously, and took his leave just as little Uplink stuck her head into the room to yell, "Teacher, Saddiya is throwing up!"

Jack took his time navigating the winding pathways of the Stone District before they melted into the Garden District's cobblestone streets. Somewhere between the memorial gardens and the central archives was a waterfall, at the base of which lay the original houses of the colony. The one nearest the water was his.

As he loped up the path and slid over the stile in the middle of a low stone wall, he heard his mother's voice. "I can't _believe_ she said that! Well, it sounds like you handled it well." Arcee's voice responded, sounding more tired than usual. "Jack handled things just as well. You should've seen him, June. He was like a little Optimus!" There was a hiss of discomfort, followed by June scolding Arcee for moving.

"That's a pretty deep scratch, sweetie. I doubt you noticed it, what with the adrenalin and all, but if I don't get this cleaned up now, you might have some trouble with that hand later," the nurse fussed over her patient, applying a liquid mesh patch to the wound on Arcee's gun hand. Jack rounded the corner of the house to find his mother and his best friend sitting on the porch. "Hey Mom, Arcee," he greeted.

"Hi honey! Ah-ah-ah! Don't move that hand, Arcee!" The blue femme huffed and muttered something about medics. June leaned over and raised an eyebrow. "What was that?" "Nothing, June," Arcee said sweetly. "Are you sure?" Jack teased, "I'm pretty sure I heard 'Thanks for not sending me to Ratchet, Mrs. Darby'." Arcee narrowed her optics at her partner. "Don't you start the ganging up thing on me!"

Jack chuckled and flung himself down on the deck with a sigh. "Arcee told me everything, Jack," his mother said, reaching down to squeeze his hand, "I'm so glad you're both safe!" Arcee's lips quirked upwards as she saw some humor in the situation. "Feels like the old days, doesn't it? Sending me and Jack somewhere and telling us to stay safe is almost a guarantee that we're going to run into trouble."

June made a face. "I, for one, was enjoying the peace!" Jack rolled over to face his mother. "Mom," he said softly, "I don't know why, but I feel like that peace isn't going to last as long as we think." Arcee frowned in understanding. "Those mystery goons in 12D and C might make their way out here," she said grimly. June stood abruptly. "We are _not_ discussing that here. Besides, that's a matter for the Primes."

"Optimus says I'll still be an honorary Prime when I Metamorphose," Jack argued. June sighed and slumped down again, leaning against her son's shoulder. "Right, you're going to Metamorphose in a month. I actually wanted to talk to you about that, but I'll wait until Optimus gets here." Jack and Arcee exchanged slightly worried glances.

* * *

Across Eden, the femmes of Sector Sweep 12C had found a place to bunk until their next assignment. It was a small suite with one bedroom and a living room with two sleeper couches. Gigawatt grunted something that might've been 'good night' before shutting herself in the bedroom. Irene quickly claimed one end of the Cybertronian-sized couch and leaned back with a sigh. Zettabyte began bustling to and fro, unfolding the other couch into a recharge bunk. She looked up to see Endline staring pensively out the door of the suite.

"Endline? _Nǐ hái hǎo ma_?"* she asked gently. "Nothing. I'm fine," the femme answered tersely. "You're pretty obviously not 'fine', femme-friend!" Santiago called from the couch. "Mute it, Irene!" Endline growled. Irene looked slightly hurt by her vehemence. "_Dà jiě jie_,"* Zettabyte's voice was serene, but her optics held a hint of reproach. The Vehicon femme frowned and crossed her arms tightly over her tank. "Sorry," she muttered.

She wouldn't meet their eyes. All she could think of was her stupid, rash loss of temper with the Kaonians. It was so easy-too easy- to slide into the memories, to see her family in pieces, trampled by Thunderwing. To hear the ugly names she'd been called as a young Autobot for having red optics. She'd tried so hard to put it behind her, and look what had happened.

She'd punched a youngling. A _youngling_! What was _wrong_ with her? She had been so angry, so terrifyingly angry. The fury of the soldiers from Eden was nothing to her. The look on her partner's face was so much worse. Dean had looked so...sad. He seemed to not even recognize her in that moment, and he probably understood her better than anyone save the Captain.

They never said anything in the night watches where she would break down weeping. Dean had held her finger in his hand the whole day on the anniversary of her parents' deaths. The captain didn't judge her when she screamed invective at those who were once Decepticons. When Arcee had told him what she had done, he had not been angry, but his optics had held a mixture of worry and disappointment that wrenched her spark.

A hand on her faceplate drew her slowly from the slough of despondency. "_Dà jiě jie_?" Coolant tears began to spill out of Endline's optics, to her chagrin. Zettabyte pulled the older femme into a sisterly embrace, murmuring soothing things. "It's going to be alright, Endline. We can work through this," Irene called from the couch. They were trying to be kind. They always were, but this was about more than her personal issues.

Endline shook her helm. "I could have started a war! What if Centurion loses his post for this? It'll be my fault!" she wailed, "I'll never be able to look him in the optics again!" Irene climbed over the back of the couch and slid to the floor. She sat down on Endline's foot. "Don't say that!" Irene insisted. She smirked. "You know how the captain's motto is "for as much as is possible, be at peace with all mechs?"

Endline rolled her optics. "Yeah. He _only_ says it every day!" she grumbled. Irene grinned up at her. "Well," she explained, "I'm pretty sure it means he'll forgive you, whatever else happens." Endline relaxed a little. It was a nice thought, anyway. "Alright, you two," Zettabyte said in a maternal no-nonsense tone, "get some rest!" The human yawned and smiled as Endline relocated her to the couch, and curled up next to her. "Goodnight," she sighed. "_Wǎn'ān_,"* Zettabyte returned. Endline remained awake long after the others had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling and trapped in her memories.

**I didn't get straight back to action in this chapter, because I didn't want it to look like Endline got away scot free after punching Slipstream.**

**Seeing as my beta reader said (and I quote) "FOR THE LOVE OF THE ALLSPARK PLEASE PUT TRANSLATIONS!" I have put what Zettabyte is saying.**

*** "are you alright?"**

*** "big sister" (affectionate nickname)**

*** "good night"**

**If anyone was wondering what she said back in chapter 5(?), she said "Ah! What is wrong with this thing?"**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**And now, back to Optimus...**

**I own the O'Connors, Sector Sweep 12C, and any other unrecognizable characters. Otherwise, it all belongs to Hasbro.**

Optimus drove in silence, his spark heavy with worry. The incident reports weighed on his processor. Having been a historical archivist before he was a Prime, Optimus tended to file and categorize data as he gathered it. The file pertaining to the Kaonian province attacks was growing exponentially, and had been for months.

A sparkling disappears from an asteroid settlement in 12E, investigation teams reported sudden and intense cold before disappearing as well. A town in 12D is found torn to shreds and completely massacred. Three patrol units-all on separate planetoids- report unusual weather conditions, and are later found savagely murdered. Unidentified life signs and sudden cold lead to the utter destruction of Outpost Gallimimus in 12C.

Optimus did not regret sending soldiers to 12C. If he had not, the Sector Sweep team would have died just like the others had. A secret part of his spark regretted sending Jack, however. The boy had remained calm throughout the entire affair, and Arcee's reports reflected that his skills in leadership were developing well. Still, that was _his_ boy, and in some ways he had been as panicked as June when he heard the words "Keller's Holt".

The Prime turned off of the bridge and transformed, preferring to walk the rest of the way. Hands clasped behind his back, the mech walked through the gardens, taking comfort in the beauty surrounding him. If only he could insulate this civilization from harm...but such thoughts were impractical. Exventing heavily, he strolled down to the waterfall, ducking under tree branches.

He smiled softly at the scene before him. June knelt on the back porch, tending a box of flowers, while Jack, Arcee, and the younger Esquivel kids stood waist-deep in the pool at the waterfall's base. Bumblebee sat on the shore, dithering about whether to get in or not. All were completely absorbed in a game involving air cannons, splashing, and a _decidedly_ unorthodox use of kumquats.

Raf saw him first. The sixteen year old pushed his goggles up onto his forehead and grinned. "Hi Optimus!" he shouted, before Pilar ducked him under the water again. "Hello, children," he rumbled, spark lightened immeasurably by their noisy innocence. Just as Bumblebee finally decided to get into the water, Jack scrambled out of the pool, the sunlight quickly evaporating most of the moisture from his clothing.

He didn't salute, and there was no need to. This was no military setting, this was home. His eyes were filled with a relief mingled with affection. Jack darted over to the porch to rummage through his jacket, which was slung over a chair. He fished out the key and held it up to Optimus with a smile. "Yours, I believe?" Optimus responded by snatching the boy up with a low chuckle and depositing him on his shoulder.

"Good to see you back, Optimus," Arcee greeted him warmly. "How did your meeting with Megatronus go?" Jack murmured from his position next to his godfather's helm. "Megatronus will not pursue the matter. He is of the opinion that it was the fault of the young Seekers, and they have been... punished accordingly," he answered. Jack winced in sympathy. He knew as well as anyone that Megatronus would not take the matter lightly. He wouldn't have been surprised if the triplets had been grounded until they were old.

With a weary groan, Optimus lowered his massive frame to the grass. For a little while, he watched Bumblebee and his honorary "siblings" in their playful water-fight, as Arcee stretched out to dry in the sun. As the sun climbed higher, someone's comm buzzed. "Darby family," June answered, "Oh, good afternoon, Doctor. Yes, they're here. _Yes_, all six of them. I'll tell them, hang on." She turned and shouted to the mock combatants, "That's Ratchet, guys. He says your parents want you to come home for lunch."

Protesting lightly, three young men, two young women, and Bumblebee dragged themselves away from the water. The scout shook himself dry, (nearly soaking Optimus, Arcee, and Jack) and transformed so that the Esquivels wouldn't have to walk the whole way. With cheerful and boisterous farewells, they departed, leaving the Darbys and their extended family to themselves.

Arcee sat up and drew her knees to her chestplate. "So, Megatronus doesn't want a war. Not that I blame him, but what about Endline? She's still in trouble, isn't she?" Optimus turned to face her, careful not to dislodge Jack from his perch. When the boy Metamorphosed, he decided, this would be something he'd miss. "Endline will be properly reprimanded for her behavior," he said solemnly, "and I believe that the disciplinary tribunal will likely require her to personally apologize to young Slipstream."

June shrugged and leaned against the porch railing. "That sounds fair. I might have her look into professional help though, Arcee's report makes it sound like she has some pretty major trauma involving Decepticons in her past." Optimus met her gaze with an interested look. "Indeed? I will speak to her commanding officer about it. Would you be willing to speak with her, June? I am sure we all wish to help her through this as best we can."

"I'll see what I can do," the nurse said softly, "for now, though, I believe there was a matter we were going to discuss with Jack?" Ah, that was right-they were supposed to discuss Metamorphoses with the boy. He held out his hand, and Jack hopped nimbly from his shoulder. Once safely on the ground, he sat next to his partner and fixed his eyes on his mother and his father-figure. June and Optimus glanced at each other, unsure of where to start.

"Jackson, you will be twenty-one in two lunar months," the Prime began. June continued, "Metamorphoses is a lengthy process, and you're going to be vulnerable while you transform. Preceptor sent the necessary paperwork while you were gone, and I looked through it. It requires your signature and mine, but mostly Optimus's seal." Optimus nodded seriously. "The signature will be invalid if you wait until after Metamorphosis to sign. You will be considered legally an adult only so long as you are human," he said.

"I know," Jack replied, and he did. Given that Cybertronians and Cybaartarians lived for so long, they took longer to grow up-especially in times of peace. Once he Metamorphosed, Jack would be under the guardianship of his mother and Optimus Prime until he was at least one-hundred and thirty years of age. Patrols and political action would be considerably limited, just as they had been on Earth during the war. That didn't bother him as much as he'd have thought it would, he decided.

"Of greater concern are the spreading attacks by the unknown life forms," Optimus spoke in a grave voice. "If they continue to move from sector to sector, your Metamorphosis may not be as safe as we could have hoped. Do you wish to wait until the threat has been dealt with? Your mother and I worry that Eden may become a target, and we thought perhaps you might prefer to Metamorphose on Cybertron?" Jack considered silently, then glanced up at Arcee to gauge her reaction as he spoke.

"I'm not sure I'm any safer as a human than as a Cybaartarian, and I don't know enough about the attacks to know what dealing with it entails. To be able to transform on Cybertron would be _beyond _amazing, but I honestly don't know if I can wait that long. If you'll agree," and here he leaned forward to look at June, "I would prefer to Metamorphose as soon as is legally possible. But I'd like someone to be there with me, if that's alright?" His mother beamed at him and smoothed his hair. "Of course, sweetheart. Optimus and Arcee and I can rotate out to sit with you, if you want."

As daylight once more faded into dusk, the discussion began to turn to less pressing matters, and Arcee excused herself for the evening, eager for some rest. "I don't know about you," she smirked, "But the oil bath has my name on it. Consider the washroom off-limits for the next three hours!" "You too, mister," June playfully scolded Jack. The boy smirked, but hugged her tightly. "Ok, ok. 'Night Mom." She returned the wish with a motherly kiss to his forehead and pushed him towards the back door. "Goodnight Optimus," he called over his shoulder. The Prime smiled gently back. "Rest, son," he advised quietly.

Left alone for the time being, the woman and the Prime found themselves sitting in comfortable silence, each contemplating the challenges that lay in their future. Optimus broke the silence first. "June, in cases of Metamorphoses similar to Jackson's, the young Cybaartarians are sometimes formally or nominally adopted by their legal guardians after changing. Would you be offended if this were to be the case?"

June squinted for a moment, trying to work out what her friend was saying. "Do you mean would I be upset if you officially adopted Jack?" Upon seeing Optimus's embarrassed expression, June began to giggle. "If I was going to get mad over something like that, do you think I'd have made you his godfather?" She laughed again. "No, Orion. I'd have no problems with that. I know you would never try to negate my claim on parenthood." Optimus looked relieved, which made the woman laugh once more.

The stars began to emerge above them, and June's face fell a little. "He's _so_ ready to Metamorphose, but I all I can think is that I'll never be able my baby again. Do all parents feel like this?" Optimus shook his mighty helm. "I do not know, June. If it is any comfort, I will miss being able to carry him on my shoulder." He chuckled suddenly, and the rumbling sound echoed into the night. "Though I doubt Jackson will appreciate such a mode of transportation when he is bigger."

The nurse allowed a smile to creep across her tired features at the image. "I guess it's just hard to think of him as growing up." A mischievous twinkle lit her eyes. "If this is hard for me, I can't imagine what it's going to be like for Ultra Magnus and the Wreckers when boys start hanging around Miko!"

The idea of the hook-handed commander and his posse sitting on a porch, cleaning guns while some nervous young man inquired after Miko was enough to melt any remaining tension.

* * *

Megatronus quietly patrolled the halls of Pred'akngard, as he always did. He passed Kaonians of diverse shapes and sizes, going about their daily lives. Peace, how strange it felt. He had cleared the first two wings when he caught sight of Ramjet skulking along the corridor. The young Seeker was holding a bizarre creature that looked like the mutated offspring of a squid and a chipmunk. "Ramjet!" the Prime barked, "_What_ is that hideous thing, and _why_ is it in my home?!"

The youngling squawked in surprise, then turned bright optics upon the strange animal. "I...dunno?" he answered slowly. The former warlord blinked. "_You don't know_. And where are you taking this unfortunate monstrosity, pray tell?" "I'm gonna show Knockout!" Ramjet chirped happily. Megatronus's left optic twitched violently as he pondered all the possible meanings the child's declaration might have had.

"Why?" he demanded. The little grey and white mech frowned, deep in thought. "You mean I gotta have a reason for _everything_ I do?" he blurted out. Now Megatronus's other optic was twitching as well. Ramjet tended to act younger than he was, but there was no possible way that his plans for that creature were as guileless as they sounded! Someone was going to be on the receiving end of that foul little beast, and it was _not_ going to be pretty.

Megatronus stood silently for several more seconds before he made his decision. Against his better judgment, he stepped out of the way. "Carry on," he sighed with a flourish of his hand. There was sure to be a horrifying incident later, he knew, but it was Knockout's problem now! He didn't suppose there was any harm in letting the Trine create a little chaos, every now and then. Better than running off to neutral spaces looking for a fight, anyway.

**...well, Knockout's in for an unpleasant surprise! I've basically decided that the triplets' personalities are**

**Sunstorm: a little like Sokka from Avatar: the Last Airbender**

**Slipstream: kind of like Toph from the same show, mixed with Rue from Princess Tutu when Slipstream has a bad day**

**Ramjet: Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes.**


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Transformers are property of Hasbro

Quadrant 12, Sector 12D-outer asteroid belt

A ring of asteroids floated peacefully in the void, surrounded by countless thousands of stars. In the very center of the ring a titan slumbered. Migrating Colony 21186D was forged from reinforced Cybertronium, able to withstand impacts up to the magnitude of a small crash landing without injuring its inhabitants.

The mammoth ship, known affectionately as Sherwood by its 2079 human inhabitants, and Storm Front by its 462 Cybertronian inhabitants, moved slowly from place to place. It was meant to explore for the purpose of boldly seeking out new life and creating new colonies, yet most of those living within it never dreamed of leaving.

Somewhere within the western edge of 21186D, in a shielded hangar bay, sat an old fighter craft. To say that it was "well-loved" would be an understatement, but to call it a rust bucket would have been an overstatement and an insult. A pair of armored legs stuck out from beneath the old warbird, and a cheerful-if tuneless-whistle echoed through the nearly empty hangar.

A door hissed open and a young woman entered. Combat boots made a hollow thunk on the deck as she walked towards the whistling mechanic. Bi-colored hair clashed with the grease-stained fatigues she wore, and the dog-tags jingling around her neck were covered in Cybertronian glyphs. Her eyes were fixed on a screen in her hand; she didn't stop to look up at the mechanic. She merely slapped his foot as she said loudly, "Dispatch call!"

The mech sat up quickly, resulting in a thunderous crash, and an even more thunderous bellow of pain, followed by some _inventive _vocabulary. The girl stepped back and raised an eyebrow as the mechanic emerged, covered in energon and cursing his ship. "Think that's funny, do you? Just you wait, ya hunk of junk! I'mma punch you in your scrap-lousy face!" He shook his clawed fist at the offending vehicle before noticing the human.

"Miko, what is it? I was fine-tuning the Storm-bringer!" he said impatiently. Mikoto Nakadai snickered and held up the screen. "Oh I can _see_ that! Well I'd hate to interrupt, but there's a dispatch from Eden, Chief. And next time? Just ask Wheeljack to do it!" Ultra Magnus scowled down at the littlest Wrecker. "I am perfectly capable of managing my own ship!" he protested. "_Riight_. Which is why you were about to punch it in its scrap-lousy face. Which, by the way, Bulkhead might not like you saying, since that's kind of his trademark now." Magnus hated it when the younger Wreckers caught him swearing. It made scoldings on similar subjects completely ineffectual.

He settled for leveling a ferocious glare at the girl and snatching the data pad from her. "Crops are flourishing, no political snarls," he read aloud."Well that's all well and good, but I fail to see the relevance of such knowledge to us," he muttered in an aside to Miko, who shrugged. Magnus continued, "Family is well, Bumblebee and the Esquivel boys want to visit...that will be interesting..."

The tall mech scrolled through the letter lazily, ingesting the news from the other sectors. "Are Bulkhead and Smokescreen finished with the shield?" he asked off-handedly. Miko climbed up to sit on a stack of crates nearby, and winced. "They're almost done, Boss Bot. Once Bulk finishes recalibrating the containment field, we should have a sustainable oxygen/carbon dioxide flow on the outer decks."

Commander Magnus hadn't lived for so long by not paying attention to details. He had heard the other Wrecker's hissing intake of breath. "What's the matter, Miko? Is it your arm?" The human grimaced and shrugged. She glanced down at the Cybertronian prosthetic and flexed it, earning herself a twinge of discomfort. "Yep," Miko sighed, "It's the arm. It always acts up a little when it's cold." Ultra Magnus nodded sympathetically. "It has gotten cold recently, hasn't it? I'll have to ask engineering to do something about that."

He held out one hand, and the girl agilely scrambled up to perch on his shoulder. "Let's see if we can't find Wheeljack and the Rookie," he suggested.

As the pair left the hangar, neither saw the Storm-bringer's alarm systems spring to life, warning of an unidentified mass floating near the colony.

* * *

Ismaros, city of Eden

Jack awoke early, as was his habit. One month had passed since the disasterous mission to Outpost Gallimimus and, although you couldn't tell by looking at the surface, those at the Capitol were very worried. They had reassigned the entire Sector Sweep team to be part of an early warning initiative developed by Prowl. Arcee and Jack had been sent from one end of the city to the other, warning various municipal employees and testing defenses.

So far the only danger they'd come across was a toothy, unpleasant creature in the terrace fields. It had been deterred fairly easily by a pair of warriors like them, but Optimus had insisted that they warn local parents all the same. Especially since the blasted thing had nearly scared the life out of a local sparkling not two weeks ago. Springer was sent with Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Ironhide to investigate the wreckage of Outpost Gallimimus for a clue to the identity of the strange attackers.

Jack shrugged on his navy blue uniform and tugged on his boots. He and Arcee would be joining Prowl to scan the rings around Ismaros today. There had been talk of putting up shields in the rings, but there would have to be a survey first. To anchor shield generators in strategic places around the floating debris would be lengthy and dangerous work, not to mention costly. Before any measures were taken to fund the project, the chances of success would have to be evaluated.

Arcee wasn't at the house when he got up, so Jack headed for the archives on foot.

* * *

Arcee hadn't slept much the night before, and with good reason. Against her better judgment, she had allowed her sisters Chromia and Moonracer to drag her the Aspen and Iris, a public house. Chromia was there for something called "mead" that was coming in from the Kaonian provinces. Arcee didn't like the smell and stuck to mid-grade energon. Moonracer had somehow cajoled a pair of combiners into arm wrestling. (Literally, they detached their arms and let them fight.) A crowd quickly gathered to place bets on the combatants. Arcee severely hoped that no one who outranked her would enter in the next few hours. This was just embarrassing.

"I can't believe I'm related to you two!" Arcee had groaned, scooting further into the dark corner they'd chosen. Chromia smirked at her. "You need to loosen up, little sister. All this Creepy Mystery Attack business will overwhelm you if you don't let off some steam every now and then!" "And the shooting range doesn't count!" Moonracer declared, seemingly popping up out of nowhere. The other two scarcely blinked an optic. By now they were used to their sister's bizarre tendencies. Either she was the sneakiest femme alive, or she was warping time and space. Arcee didn't even care which one it was anymore.

The light green femme bounced away from the table. "Hey, watch this! I bet if I start singing the Insecticon Drinking Song, I can get five mechs to join in!" Arcee stared at her. "You're overcharged, aren't you?" Chromia shook her helm. "Nope, just Moonracer." The lighter blue femme stood up with a sigh. "I'mma make sure she doesn't start that song about smiling at spooks again. You _know _what happens when she gets a musical number started." Chromia marched over to drag Moonracer away from the musicians, then turned to shout over her shoulder, "Try to enjoy yourself a little, ok?"

Arcee humphed noncommittally. She did smile a little when her sisters accidentally started an impromptu karaoke session, but the other patrons clearly had better things to spend their money on than singing lessons, so the smile soon turned into a pained wince. She was about to head for the outside balcony when her audial receivers picked up the words, "...seen attacks like this before." Desperately trying to tune out the surrounding cacophony and focus on that one voice, Arcee listened closely.

"Way back near the beginning of the Allied Exploration Initiative, it was," the creaking voice continued, "Whole bases would just vanish overnight. Couldn't call it Decepticons, there weren't none left-not officially." Arcee left her corner to find the owner of the voice. Just a few tables away, an old, old Seeker with red and gold highlights on his rusty armor sat on a bench. A younger, blue and silver Seeker sat next to him with a slightly bored look on his face. Clearly, he'd heard this story before. He couldn't have been any older than the Trine from Kaon, making Arcee wonder why someone his age was in a public house.

Arcee approached the two. "Hi. Forgive me, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but what were you saying about bases vanishing?" The cloudy red optics lit up at the fresh audience. "Jetfire," he wheezed, holding out a taloned hand, "And this is my grandson, Jetstorm." "Arcee," the femme replied. "Yes, we know who you are," Jetstorm remarked. Arcee blinked at the young mech's rudeness. But then, in an atmosphere like this, perhaps politeness was too much to hope for. Jetfire picked up his tale again.

"I went to investigate the destruction of Cygnus 26 with my team," he said. Arcee's optics lit with recognition. All Autobots remembered the doomed ship Cygnus 26; it had been carrying supplies to one of the first colonies, but never made its destination. It had never been clear what had happened, though. "Ten mechs go into the ship," Jetfire murmured in a vacant tone, "three mechs come out. Soul-snatchers took the rest." "Soul-snatchers, Grandsire? _Really_? Those are barrack-room tales to scare younglings!" Jetstorm snorted.

The old one went on as if he'd never been interrupted. "You ever see a Soul-snatcher? You won't until it's too late. They got cloaks, you know. Don't let anybot see them before they're good and ready. Pit-spawned wicked, they are. And their optics-" he shuddered- "They're like a dead thing-no spark to 'em. Until they get their claws in a mech, and then their eyes just _blaze_ with unholy light. Me and two others got off that ship, loose-armored and barely sane. HQ didn't believe us, miss. Now they've made it out here, and it's going to take more than a level 9 containment field to keep 'em off!"

Even after leaving the Aspen and Iris, near dragging Moonracer, who was not ready to go, Arcee kept turning Jetfire's words over in her processor. Soul-snatchers, eh? She vaguely recalled hearing stories about them when she was stationed on Earth. ...Chromia had ended up checking under her recharge bunk every night for a week. The small Cybertronian decided that this warranted further research.

After dropping her sisters off at their respective quarters, Arcee headed for the central archives. If any place was going to have the information she wanted, it would be here. By this time it was near the middle of the night, and the watchmen greeted her with confusion as she drove past them. Mentally thanking Optimus for her security access-pass, the cycle-bot made her way to the nearest online data kiosk. The floors below still hummed with activity, being sorting areas for books and datapads, but the upper floors were as still as death.

"Ok," she muttered, "Soul-snatchers." Thin servos danced over the keyboard. A dull ping echoed through the empty room, and three results flashed upon the screens. "_On the use of Mythical Terrors as Societal Controls_. Well that's probably not it," Arcee grumbled. She moved on to the next one. "_Soul-Snatchers! Don't scream, they already know you're there!."_ The femme groaned. "Definitely not that one! Ok, number three..." She selected the last result, magnifying it. "Well, this looks promising. _Ten_ _Cycles of Terror: the truth behind the Cygnus 26 Incident_."

Arcee tapped the left screen to indicate that she needed the file. "What the- Inter-library loan only?! Agh, stupid database!" Irritated, she requested the file and began a new search. "Incident report: Cynus 26." No results. "Security access, level 10. Commander Arcee. Incident report: Cygnus 26," she repeated. A folder appeared on the screen to the right, which she quickly moved to the center and opened. In cheerful glyphs across the top of the page, it read: "This file is in Binary. Use AutoTranslate?" _All I want is an incident report!_ Arcee thought, _Is that too much to ask?!_

With an exasperated sigh, she selected Auto-Translate and watched the page divide into seven individual files: Cygnus 26's ship logs, the investigation team's initial report, the incident report, two medics' evaluations of the survivors, a transcript of an Allied Exploration Initiative council meeting, and a file simply labeled ".Sparkeater_[creature]." Most of the files, Arcee notes, had been compiled by Optimus Prime within the last two months.

Her own spark clenched nervously as she read the multiple reports. Clearly, these attacks had happened before, four years ago with the Cygnus 26 Incident. Why then, did the information only make it to the Edenite Council after Optimus located it? Arcee smirked. No one, not even Rafael, could out-hack Orion Pax!

"Further investigation after Jetfire's testimony warranted the quarantining of the Cygnus 26 in a Level 9 containment field, effectively trapping the responsible parties," Arcee read aloud. _Hm, 'effectively trapping', really? Then what are the other reports? Copycat killers?_ Running a hand over her aching helm, Arcee moved to the "Sparkeater" file.

It was encyclopedic in nature, and unfortunately rather vague. The blue femme glanced around the darkened and empty floor before reading on. "*Sparkeaters are powerful and monstrous predators, so rarely seen that they are largely believed by Cybertronians to be mythical. As such, mere mention of them can invoke a sense of supernatural terror even among battle-hardened warriors. Little is firmly known of their habits or origin..." She trailed off. _Scrap. Scrap scrap scrap! she thought, What did we get ourselves into this time?!_

When she joined Jack and Prowl later that morning, she was tense. Jack hadn't seen her like this since the day they'd stumbled upon Airachnid's crashed ship, years ago. "What's wrong?" he immediately asked. His partner smiled at him, but there was no humor in her expression. "You and I are officially bad news magnets," she said dryly. Prowl raised an eyebrow as the femme explained what she had learned about the possible identity of the mystery attackers. The tactician frowned. "If this is true, the Kaonian provinces must be warned immediately!" he stated, "Captain Darby, as Optimus is currently sequestered with the Edenite Council discussing the benefits of the shield program, it falls to us to inform Megatronus."

"Falls to Jack, you mean," Arcee corrected him, "He won't recognize you as having authority to treat with him, and he and I have got bad energon between us. He might actually humor Jack with an audience, because he's so young." Jack grimaced. "Gee, _thanks_ Arcee. I feel _so_ confidant now!" Failing to recognize the sarcasm in the human's voice, Prowl nodded. "Very well, as you are confidant, I expect you will establish communication shortly. You are both excused from the survey." As the tactician transformed and rolled out, the partners stared at each other in dismay, each thinking the same thing. "Scrap!"

And back to danger! Mwahahaha!

Just a quick note here, the phrase: "I'mma punch you in your scrap-lousy face" came from a dear friend of mine. The guy's pretty much as close to a real-life Bulkhead as you can get. I sincerely hope he never finds out about this, because I'm not sure how to explain casting him as a giant robot.

Arcee's experience with the library computer is based on the fact that library databases never seem to be helpful when I need them to be...

Also, the definition of Sparkeaters comes from /wiki/Sparkeater_(creature). Although, they're a wee bit different in my story.


	12. Chapter 11

Paste y

Chapter 11

I own only the oc's. Also, Megatron is singing Erlkonig. Because Megatron

Once more, **_bold italics_** means that someone is on the other end of a com

Pred'akngard, Sector 12E

Jack did not com Kaon right at the moment Prowl left. He gazed up at Arcee nervously. "Did you mean what you said before?" he asked. "About you being the only one Megatronus would listen to? Yeah, I meant it," Arcee replied. The human crossed his arms and fidgeted. It seemed like a breach of protocol to contact Pred'akngard without Optimus's knowledge or permission, but Prowl technically outranked Jack, so he wasn't sure he could refuse.

When Jack did contact the Kaonian Capitol, it was not Megatronus who answered. _**"What do you want, fleshling?"**_a gruff voice demanded, _**"the glorious Lord Megatron has no time for humans!"**_Jack fought down the urge to facepalm. "Lugnut, where is Megatronus Prime?" he asked calmly. The brutish mech growled. _**"What business does a human have with such a great warrior?"**_A condescending chuckle sounded from behind the green and purple titan.

"Who are you terrorizing now, you pompous old windbag?" Sunstorm sneered. Jack waited patiently on the other end of the line as a scuffle broke out between Lugnut and the Trine for possession of the com. Between crashes and threats of dire punishment, Slipstream snatched the device. _**"Pred'akngard, Main Hall. Slipstream speaking."**_Jack paced the balcony with the com in his hand. "I can see that," he sighed. "Slipstream, where is Megatronus? I have urgent news regarding a certain incident we were both party to."

The young femme didn't like the sound of that in the slightest. "Just a minute," she said seriously, "the Prime is in his forge. I'll let him know you're on the line." Slipstream opened a hailing frequency to the forge, then paused. "What name should say? I hear you've got two of them, after all." The human on the screen frowned. _**"Captain Darby. He'll know who it is."**_The Triplets glanced at each other, amused. "Do we do it?" Ramjet asked from his position on top of Lugnut's helm. "Do we have a choice?" his sister replied dryly.

Slipstream matched the frequency to Megatronus's coordinates. The massive mech did not notice the screen in the slightest, wholly focused on his task. As the ringing blows of the hammer built up a steady cadence, the ex-warlord's stentorian baritone rose and fell to match. The Trine and Lugnut watched in respectful silence for a while before Sunstorm turned to the com. "I think it'll be easier if we just send you a Space Bridge. He can't hear us."

In Eden, Jack held a brief, whispered conference with Arcee. "Do you think it's safe to go over there?" he wondered. Certainly, if there was no other way, he'd do it. Still, he would rather Optimus went instead. Arcee shook her helm. "I doubt it, but this could be life or death. Go ahead and go, I'll let Optimus know what's going on." The young Captain placed his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Arcee," he said softly. Then he turned back to the screen. "Whenever you're ready," he said to Sunstorm.

Jack stepped through the portal to find the Cybertronians still watching the screen with rapt attention. "Slipstream, I have to talk to him," he stated firmly. **"****_Bring him to the Forge_**,**"** Megatronus snapped suddenly, _**"And turn that screen off! I won't have you all spying on me!"**_The Triplets gulped and did as he said. "Here Sunny, take him to the Forge," Slipstream ordered. "Me?! I opened the bridge!" Sunstorm protested indignantly, "Make Ram do it." Their eager-to-please sibling instantly agreed. "I can do it, guys! Be right back!"

Jack followed the young Seeker down a maze of torchlit corridors, wondering whether he himself had ever been that young and immature. Surely he must have been, but it seemed like a very long time ago! For their sakes, he prayed that the threat of the Soul-snatchers would pass by soon. Ramjet led the captain to a pair of heavy stone doors, carved with depictions of Predacons in flight. "Give me a sec, this is heavier than it looks," the youngling apologized with a shrug.

The doors opened slowly and with a groan. Jack was ushered into the oppressive heat, and the door shut fast behind him. It was utterly dark, save for the glow of the fires. "Why have you come to Pred'akngard?" Megatronus asked in a harsh voice. The Prime appeared to be irritable: this was a time for diplomacy. "Forgive me, sir. I should have asked your leave before entering your home. The Trine believed that you would not be able to hear the com, and Lugnut refused to let me speak to you," Jack said humbly.

"You've never come alone, son of Optimus. Matters must be truly dire, that they send a sparkling to seek an audience with a Prime." Megatronus was testing him, watching to see whether he was intimidated. Jack stood straight and tall under the scarlet scrutiny of the Prime's optics, and spoke formally- as he was expected to. "New information has come to light concerning the growing trend of attacks on outposts, Megatronus Prime. My father is in council now, else he would bring you the news himself."

The Prime set aside the hammer-which had not once been still- and, taking two delicate daggers from the anvil, plunged his arms into a vat of cold water. He then turned to face the Boy as steam curled around his shoulders. "Speak, Nephew." Jack explained the rumors of Sparkeaters and the precautions of Level 9 containment fields. "My partner has discovered that four years ago, an identical incident was responsible for the destruction of the Cygnus 26," he finished. Megatronus uttered a curse in his own tongue.

"If, as you say, this has happened before, why was I not informed?" he snarled. Jack wisely took a step back before answering. "It seems that someone in the Initiative has been encrypting the information for years, hiding it. Only recently was it found and compiled by Optimus Prime." Megatronus clenched his teeth. "This bodes ill for our people," he murmured, more to himself than to Jack. A thought flashed across his optics, and the old warrior seized a vat of molten metal. "Go," he rasped.

Jack nodded once in acquiescence, then realized that he had no way to open the heavy door on his own. Embarrassed, he turned back to the imposing figure in the forge, who hunched Hephaestus-like hovering over a new project. "Megatronus? I can't get out," the Boy mumbled, hoping he wasn't blushing. Megatronus seemed to ignore him, so he tried again, a little louder. "Megatronus? Sir?" The giant remained at his post.

Frustrated, Jack finally shouted, "_Uncle_?" At this, Megatronus looked up. "You're still here?" Then he remembered. "Ah yes, I'd forgotten the door." With a tug of one hand, the door swung open, letting a rather disgruntled Captain Darby out. "Nevermind," his "uncle" smirked, "Soon you'll open this door yourself!" Jack gave him a strange look and departed. He would have to ask Optimus whether Megatronus knew about his impending Metamorphosis.

The great smith turned back to his tools, pretense of levity forgotten. One thought echoed relentlessly in his processor like the ringing of the anvil: Prepare them. Prepare them. Prepare them. His optics wandered to look at the little daggers, cooling in the trough. They would do for Ramjet, he had decided. Before the metal finished hardening, he carved glyphs for protection and loyalty into the blade with one sharp servo.

Upon the wall hung armor he intended for Sunstorm, and a blade for Slipstream. It hadn't been until Captain Darby had spoken to him that he realized how young and vulnerable his brother's heir was. Once the Boy Metamorphosed, he would need a weapon. Megatronus looked back down at the frame he was pouring the liquid Cybertronium into. _A sword worthy of a Prime_, he thought.

* * *

Optimus stepped out of the council chambers and fought the urge to shake his helm in frustration. That some people could be so stubborn as to impede every step of a motion merely because "the proper forms were not filled out" amazed him. The meeting had nearly devolved into a shouting match by the end, and he'd been forced to pull rank to silence them.

They were unhappy, of course, but when the city of Eden had decided to follow the political model of the Autobots, that had left the Primes with most of the power. So if Optimus made a decision, it was final, and no amount of debating was going to change it. Optimus was glad that he had only needed to order the board members to behave like adults. He found Arcee waiting anxiously beside the door as he walked out. "Arcee?" His gentle voice was an invitation to speak.

The blue femme fell into step beside the Prime. "Optimus, last night I was reading your files on the Kaon attacks, and I spoke to a survivor of the Cygnus 26 Incident," she said in a low voice. Optimus fixed a worried gaze on her. "You believe they are connected." "Yes sir," Arcee continued, "and I've traced the information to creatures called Sparkeaters." "Soul-snatchers?" Optimus's faceplates were grim.

"I had recently begun to suspect that they were not as mythical as the Exploration Initiative hopes, but I wished to gather more evidence before I brought it up." Optimus noticed something, or rather, the lack of something. "Arcee...where is your partner?" Arcee straightened her shoulder guards and explained what Prowl had said, and the Space Bridge to Pred'akngard that Jack had stepped through.

A glyph message from Pred'akngard pinged in the Prime's processor. **_We need to talk_**. Without Arcee's previous explanation, the four words would have been ominous indeed. "Arcee, go to the Esquivel family and ask Rafael to appropriate the data core of the Archive sub-levels," Optimus ordered suddenly, "Then meet me at the Space Bridge. I must speak with my brother, and you must retrieve your partner." "Wait!" Arcee squeaked, "You're not taking me with you, are you? Megatronus and I get along like cats and dogs! (To use the human phrase)." But Optimus's tone brooked no room for argument.

* * *

Floating Colony 21186D: outer hull

_Crash!_

"Ow!" The young mech clasped both hands to his helm and sent a baleful glare at his assailant. "_Scrap_, that hurt!" An older mech shifted the long metal beam he held to his other shoulder. He snickered. "Sorry Rookie, didn't see ya there!" The young one ignored Wheeljack's smug grin and went back to welding, petulantly pulling his goggles down tighter than necessary.

A comforting hand ruffled his helm. "Jackie pickin' on you again?" Miko asked from inside the Apex Armor. Hot Shot shrugged. "I know he's just messing with me, but geez!" Miko laughed and began to sort through the exposed wires on the hull. "It's all good, kid. If he ever gets on your nerves too much, let me know," she made a fist and winked. Hot Shot looked up at the young woman and-not for the first time-marveled that someone who was biologically younger than him could seem so much older.

A jubilant shout arose from several yards away, where Bulkhead had found the main damage. "Hey guys! I think we found what made the lights go out in Seven Forward!" he called. Miko, Hot Shot, and Wheeljack slowly made their way over to him. Something had deeply scored the plating of the hull, actually slicing through two levels of reinforcement to pierce a main halogen line.

Miko whistled appreciatively at the sight. "What do you think did that?" While Bulkhead and the younger Wreckers bent over the damage with interest, Wheeljack began to scan the surrounding area. He wouldn't call it fear, exactly, but apprehensiveness began to swirl within his spark casing. 'Please, please just be paranoia!' he thought. Suddenly Miko's head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Something's wrong," she hissed. Wheeljack drew his swords as an alarm sounded on their wrist communicators. Bulkhead blinked. The readings didn't make any sense! According to the scanners, there were several beings surrounding them, but he could see no such thing.

Miko stood slowly. "Guys, make for the airlock-nice and easy," she murmured, "Rookie goes first." Hot Shot gulped and began to ease his way across the Cybertronium plating. Wheeljack slid gracefully behind him so that their backs nearly touched. Swords still raised, his optics darted to and fro. Bulkhead turned to his partner. "Your turn, Miko," he rumbled. Miko shook her head within the armor. "We go together, Bulk. I'll watch your back!"

The feeling of paranoia that had come over them strengthened, drawing near to panic. As the Wreckers barely restrained themselves from breaking into a run, they heard it: _scrape, hiss. Scrape, hiss. Scrape, hiss._ "Time's up!" Wheeljack said sharply. With one hand, he took hold of Hot Shot's arm. With the other, he fished out a grenade. "Fire in the hole!" he mouthed to Bulkhead before lobbing it in the direction of the disconcerting noises. The stun grenade set up a brilliant flash, nearly blinding the Wreckers.

For just a moment, Miko thought she saw a face: angelically beautiful and twisted with hatred. Then it was gone and spots swam before her eyes. "Go!" Wheeljack roared. They did not hesitate. The Wreckers dove through the hatch with a still disoriented Miko bringing up the rear. Bulkhead turned in time to see a Shape, black against the stars, fly at Miko. Before he could shout a warning, she cried out in pain, and a rush of vapor revealed that the Armor had been compromised. With an enraged cry, Bulkhead rushed the Shape, catching it off guard. His fist closed around something that felt like softened metal, and with a mighty heave he tore it from the deck and flung it into the ether.

Miko crouched at the opening of the hatch in shock, unable to process that her supply of oxygen was leaking into space, even as something warm trickled down her back. Bulkhead thundered towards the airlock, scooping his injured partner up into his arms. "Jackie! Call Magnus!" he yelled as he dropped inside. Hot Shot quickly closed the blast doors under the hatch and transformed into a compact car. "I'll get a medic!" he sped away, leaving Bulkhead and Miko alone in the hangar.

* * *

_Next time, on "Colony 21196D: Survival",_

_'Ultra Magnus's brow furrowed. "Get this girl in a Cocoon! Now!" Bulkhead gaped. "Metamorphosis? But sir! She's not twenty one yet! It's illegal!" Magnus whirled to face the Wrecker with danger in his optics. "It's the Cocoon or a Coffin, soldier! If she doesn't transform now, she'll die!"_

* * *

**Ooh, drama! I figured it was about time we got back to action. Lol, Megatron would be the worst Uncle! You know how sometimes at family reunions, you get that one awkward relative? I think that's him.**

**our document here...**


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**I own only the oc's, plot, and setting.**

_'Last time, on "Survival":_

_Miko crouched at the opening of the hatch in shock, unable to process that her supply of oxygen was leaking into space, even as something warm trickled down her back. Bulkhead thundered towards the airlock, scooping his injured partner up into his arms. "Jackie! Call Magnus!"'_

Colony 21186D: H-Deck

Sirens blared, and a hurricane of activity filled the hallway. The world spun in vivid hues of red before Miko's eyes as they pulled her out of the armor. The ringing in her ears eclipsed the babble of concerned voices.

"How is-"

"-spinal injur-"

"Thirty cc's!"

"-poison counteracting-"

"Will she-?"

"-organ failure imminent!"

"Looks like paralysis-"

"-losing her!"

It was so _cold_. Why was she so cold? All Miko wanted was to curl up and sleep, why weren't they letting her? She wanted to cry, but her eyes only sent silent tears sliding down her immobile face.

The hover stretcher fairly flew down the hall, pushed by grim-faced orderlies and followed by Bulkhead. Ultra Magnus was waiting in the operating chamber with one of the ship's surgeons. Neither looked hopeful. "Let me see her," the commander said softly. "Sir, if we move her, we run an even greater risk of-" "_Let me see her_!" The attendant shut his mouth and stepped back. The leader of the Wreckers knelt beside the gurney and gently lifted the shivering, comatose human from it.

Swiftly, his processor raced through a number of possible scenarios, none them ending happily. Magnus turned to the surgeon. "Inform Nakadai's next of kin," he ordered, "Her care has been remanded to my team's facilities." "Commander, you need parental consent, she's still a minor!" the surgeon protested. "Send me the paperwork later!" Magnus snapped as he hurriedly exited the hospital deck, clutching his injured Wrecker close to his spark. "Smokescreen, get a med room ready," he whispered into his com.

Bulkhead kept up the pace behind his leader, and they made their anxious way through the three decks separating them from the Wreckers' quarters. "Stay awake soldier, do you hear me?" Ultra Magnus huffed as they neared their destination, "You do not have my permission to die!" Wheeljack, Smokescreen, and Hot Shot were waiting in the sterilized chamber with their medic, Red Alert. The red and white femme instantly took charge.

"Wheeljack, get those younglings out of here! Commander, put Miko on the scan table: I need to see the extent of the damage." Protesting mightily, Hot Shot and Smokescreen were shoved out of room and the door locked behind them. "There," the medic intoned, "Now I assume if you've got anything risky planned, they can say they knew nothing about it." Ultra Magnus nodded gratefully.

Red Alert turned as the sensors she had attached to the patient began to shriek a warning. "By the Allspark!" she gasped, "Her internal organs are completely shutting down!" Miko's eyes widened fractionally, but she made no sound. "It's gonna be okay, Miko," Bulkhead promised. "Don't tell her that!" the doctor hissed, glaring, "Her spine is almost completely severed, she's in shock, and she's got an unidentified poison in her systems!"

Ultra Magnus's brow furrowed. "Get this girl in a Cocoon! Now!" Bulkhead gaped. "Metamorphosis? But sir! She's not twenty one yet! It's illegal!" Magnus whirled to face the Wrecker with danger in his optics. "It's the Cocoon or a Coffin, soldier! If she doesn't transform now, she'll die!" The medic activated a glass dome that slid over Miko, isolating her from her fellow Wreckers. "I'm putting her in an induced coma to minimize further degeneration until the Cocoon is ready," she explained, rushing back and forth, injecting substances under the dome.

She looked up at the three remaining mechs. "One of you-or all of you- need to donate some CNA. I can't operate a Cocoon on just energon!" Wordlessly, all three held out their arms for the needle. Red Alert scraped a small portion of mesh from between their servos and scanned it. "Commander, your energon/isotope levels aren't going to assimilate well with her blood type while she's in this state," she said flatly. The disappointment was tangible.

"Bulkhead, your energon/isotope levels match, but you've still got the contaminant from the attacker on your armor-it'll corrupt the solution." The green mech's optics swirled in horror. The femme turned to Wheeljack. "You're lucky. You're what the humans would call O+. You could donate CNA to anyone, really." Wheeljack looked relieved, as did the others. The sample from Wheel jack was entered into a computer that began to feed the information into a replicating device.

Wheeljack lay on the berth next to Miko as the computer began to formulate the solution needed to keep the girl alive during her transformation. "Hey kiddo," he whispered, "Everything's gonna be alright. I promise." "The tank will be ready in two hours," Red Alert informed Magnus, "I will keep her in stasis lock until then." Outside, Smokescreen kept an anxious vigil while Hot Shot paced. "Is she going to die?" the younger mech whispered. "I don't know, Hot Shot, I don't know."

* * *

Pred'akngard: Megatronus's Forge

Megatronus opened the door and stepped straight into another skirmish. Sunstorm was standing on a bench, holding Captain Darby over his head. Slipstream was supporting a rather dented-looking Ramjet on one side, and an equally roughened Lugnut glared hatefully at them from the other side. "I don't care who started it!" Sunstorm was saying, "You do _not_ act like that in front of our allies!"

"But Lugnut hit first! I didn't bite him 'til after that!" his little brother whined. Slipstream crossed her arms defiantly. "And he tried to squish Jack!" Megatronus began to wish he'd never opened the door. Was it too much to ask for one day of quiet? "What is this? Explain yourselves!" he growled. "Yes! You heard Lord Megatron: explain yourselves this instant!" Lugnut sneered triumphantly. "I was referring to you as well, Lugnut," the Prime deadpanned.

"You can put me down now, Sunstorm," Jack said quietly, breaking the tension, "And thanks for the save." "Oh!" The yellow Seeker gently placed the human on the floor, where he quickly dusted himself off. Megatronus shut his optics, hoping to ward off an impending headache. "_You_," he pointed at Jack, "Your father is on his way here to meet with me. You'll leave with him."

He opened one optic to glare at Lugnut. "_You_, report to Barricade, and stay there until I have time to deal with you." The fiery gaze turned to the Trine. "And _you_..." Megatronus shook his mighty helm. "My quarters. _Now_." Lugnut didn't seem to understand his predicament, and as he passed Slipstream, he muttered, "Insubordinate, human-loving _Ahtzobahts_. Small wonder Airachnid left you!"

Slipstream's carefully defiant mask buckled and her mouth dropped open in shock. Megatronus was furious. "Forget Barricade!" he thundered, murder in his optics, "Report directly to the brig. And stay there until called for!" Captain Darby watched the exchange apprehensively. As the brute lumbered away, the Prime turned to the human. "Boy," he said tiredly, "Please. Wait in the forge." He opened the door for Jack, who obliged. The door swung to with a low boom.

The silence was deafening. Ramjet was staring at the floor, face fallen, and Slipstream's wings were trembling in a potent mixture of anger and hurt. Sunstorm held out his arms and soon the other two were clinging to him like a lifeline. "He's an idiot, Slipstream!" the young mech snarled, "Don't waste your thoughts on him!" Slipstream tightened her grip on her brothers. "I _hate_ him," she whispered.

"Slipstream. Sunstorm. Ramjet." The three looked up at their leader. Megatronus sighed and pulled a hand down his faceplate. "_Why_ does this keep happening, younglings? Help me understand," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. Sunstorm relinquished his brother and sister and moved to stand in front of them, wings raised protectively. "Prime, I swear before the Allspark that we did not instigate this." He thought a moment, then amended his statement. "I started something earlier when he wouldn't let the captain speak to you, but this time he threw the first punch."

Megatronus noted that all three were scraped and dented. With a weary groan, he pulled open the door to the Forge. "Get in there," he grumbled. Wings drooping, the three shuffled in. A bemused Jack was ushered out again before the Prime thought better of it and brought him back inside. He returned his attention to Starscream's children. "This isn't the first time you've fought with Lugnut," he griped as he began to patch the three up. It was an observation, rather than a question. "He always picks on 'Stream!" Ramjet complained, "And he won't shut up about _the glorious days of the Decepticons_."

"And he talks a lot about squishing humans. It makes me really uncomfortable," Slipstream added, arms crossed protectively over her spark. Lugnut had always been a nuisance, but Megatronus had thought him too slow-witted to do any damage. Now, it seemed, he would have to go back through the incident reports and find out how many were _not_ instigated by the Trine. He looked down at Jack.

"Can you confirm this?" he asked. Jack nodded. "If Sunstorm hadn't reacted when he did, I would be dead now," he said grimly, "It seems that on both sides there are those unwilling to let to of the past." Slipstream snorted. "The femme in 12C was eons better than Lugnut. I'd rather be stuck with her than him." An internal com announced the arrival of Optimus and Arcee. "Listen closely," Megatronus announced sharply, "Lugnut will be punished for his criminal behavior, and you will _not_ be punished for defending yourselves and your cousin."

The Triplets and Jack exchanged confused looks. _Cousin_? Jack shrugged expressively and they turned their attention back to the huge Prime. "However," he was saying, "You did attack him earlier. I cannot afford to show favoritism. Therefore," the younglings winced and waited for the bad news, "you three are henceforth assigned to Colony 21186D." Megatronus's faceplates softened, and for just a moment his optics twinkled. "They have a shortage of competent fliers."

Sunstorm whooped and punched the air, and Ramjet actually hugged Captain Darby. Slipstream grabbed the Prime's hand. "You're actually sending us to the exploration craft?" Her optics danced with hope. Megatronus nodded and, true to form, tried to look stern and imposing. "I obviously don't want you anywhere near Lugnut," he scolded, "It's only logical!" The little femme squealed and threw her arms around his neck, completely ruining his intimidating look.

Optimus and Arcee were nearly bowled over as they neared the Forge. The Trine had come barreling out of the room in a frenzy of excitement, barely stopping to help Arcee to her pedes. "Sorry, lady!" Ramjet squeaked as they dashed past. Optimus chuckled quietly at the baffled expression on his SIC's faceplates. One look at his brother's sober optics, however, was enough to remind him why they were there.

Jack hurried out to join his partner, stopping to give a perfunctory salute to his godfather. Optimus took his place in the Forge as the great doors shut once more. "So," his brother began, "the ghost ship has returned to haunt us." "So it would seem."

* * *

_Next time, on "Survival":_

_"We did everything we could. I'm so, so sorry, Commander."_

_"This isn't fair! She should be here!"_

_"Optimus, doesn't it bother you that the Cygnus 26 had neither passenger list nor cargo manifest?"_

_"Centurion! What happened to you?!"_

_"If we are to understand our adversaries, we must go to the Cygnus 26."_

* * *

**I've never written hospital drama before. Watching "Emergency" on the retro channel just payed off!**

**Reviews make me dance with glee :)**


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Transformers are property of Hasbro**

_"Last time, on "Survival":_

_'"By the Allspark! All her internal organs are shutting down!" _

_"If Sunstorm hadn't reacted when he did, I would be dead now."_

_"You three are henceforth assigned to Colony 21186D."_

_"The ghost ship has returned to haunt us." "So it would seem."_

* * *

Pred'akngard

"Why did you not contact me as soon as you learned of these "Sparkeaters"?" Megatronus leaned against the kiln and stared Optimus down. His fellow Prime met his gaze steadily. "I did not feel that I had enough proof to make a positive statement." Megatronus understood, though perhaps he did not quite agree. He dragged two vast oil drums from a corner and motioned for Optimus to sit on one. He took the other with a groan.

"I suppose lasting peace was too much to hope for," he grumbled. Optimus laced his servos together beneath his chin and leaned his elbow upon his knees. "The safety of our people is paramount, but I wish to avoid a mass panic. We must separate fact from fiction before we deal with these supposedly eldritch creatures." "I suppose you are right," Megatronus admitted.

In the metal shavings coating the floor, Optimus drew a crude map of the solar system. Taking several larger pieces of leftover steel, he placed them as markers around sector 12E. "This is where the initial attacks took place, three months ago." He moved another lump of melted steel into 12C. "This is Outpost Gallimimus. The team I sent to investigate the wreckage reported an unusual energy trail leading into open space, here." He pointed to the 12C/12D border. Cerulean optics met crimson. "Now, let us compare this to the so-called Cygnus 26 Incident," Megatronus said.

He motioned to 12E. "Cygnus 26 was leaving this sector, was it not?" Optimus nodded. "Halfway between its point of origin and its destination, it stops." Optimus let out a breath. "The remains of the captain and crew exhibit damage characteristic of the attacks in your territories, and the investigation crew is almost completely wiped out."

Megatronus stopped moving suddenly, and frowned. "No distress signal. A group of _settlers_ found the hulk and reported it to the proper authorities. Why didn't they call for help?" The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. "Optimus, doesn't it bother you that the Cygnus 26 had neither passenger list nor cargo manifest?" The truth dawned on them simultaneously. "They were hiding something," Optimus murmured.

"Brother, this feels very wrong," Megatronus hissed, "There is a darkness here I do not understand, but my spark warns me that there will be more death before this is over." His brother was silent for a long time, contemplating the map. Finally he spoke, "Megatronus, if we are to understand our adversaries, we must go to the source of the first incident. We must go to the Cygnus 26." A grim understanding passed between them: some deep premonition of evil.

Megatronus laid his hand on the other's shoulder. "Brother, listen to me. Before this escalates any further, the Boy must Metamorphose." "He will soon be twenty-one," Optimus began, but the Kaonian Prime shook his helm. "You cannot afford to wait that long! Take him to Cybertron, that the process will take less time. He was nearly_ killed_ today, Optimus. He is _vulnerable_!" "What are you talking about?" Optimus stood quickly, "What happened?"

"Lugnut attempted to crush him, but the Trine rescued him," his brother explained. His tone of voice made it perfectly clear that Lugnut's life expectancy had just shortened considerably. "You were en route when it happened, else I would have told you before," Megatronus bowed stiffly, "I apologize, Optimus Prime. I did not adequately protect your son." The worried father relaxed slightly. "Was anyone injured?" he asked. "Just a few scrapes and dents, mostly," the reply was comforting in a way.

"I will speak to his mother," Optimus allowed, "If she agrees, we will let him Metamorphose a few weeks early. Do you truly believe he would be safer this way?" The silver mech nodded. "Would you not council me to do the same if one of the Triplets was in the Boy's place?" he asked quietly. Optimus gave him a rueful smile. "Indeed, brother." They nodded to each other in mutual understanding and respect. "I will meet you soon, Megatronus," Optimus promised, "After the boy transforms. Then we will investigate these Sparkeaters. Until then, prepare your people for war."

* * *

Colony 21186D

The tank utterly dwarfed the fragile frame floating within it. An oxygen mask covered the pale face, and her arms hung limply at her sides. Bulkhead sat in front of the Cocoon with one hand on the glass. "You're going to be okay, Miko," he whispered. Wheeljack stuck his head into the room. "Boss needs to debrief ya," he said gruffly, "I'll take the next shift."

Reluctantly, the green Wrecker gave up his post to his friend. "In one hour, she needs the next dose of CNA," he warned. "I_ know_," Wheeljack grumbled, "I was _there_ when Red Alert gave us the instructions." As Bulkhead left the room, the white and green mech turned to the tank. "You alright in there, Baby Sis?" He smirked slightly. "When you finish Metamorphosing, you're gonna have my energon in your veins. Boy, you'd better hope you don't turn out looking like me-I don't think the galaxy can handle it!"

His smile fell, and he rested his forehead against the glass. "I don't know what attacked you, Baby Sis, but I swear to you that we will hunt it down!" He roughly wiped coolant from his optics. "Sleep tight, Miko," Wheeljack said softly, "We've got your back." In the corridor, Magnus stood with Red Alert and Bulkhead. "You're not going to like this, soldier," the commander began.

"We broke the law in there today. For Miko's sake, no one can know about this." Magnus fixed his steely gaze on the Wrecker. "Mikoto Nakadai died on the operating table ten minutes ago. She will always be remembered as the bravest of us." Bulkhead stared in shock at the blue mech. "I don't...I don't understand, sir. We're faking her death?" Red Alert nodded briskly. "If that nosy surgeon on H-deck reports on us, we're all facing a lawsuit at the _least_." She started to pace.

"You and I will "break the news" to the commander and the younger Wreckers this evening with witnesses present. You will all mourn for three months, and after the fourth month Wheeljack's "niece" from the old planet will move in with me." Bulkhead understood: a new identity for Miko to throw off suspicion. "She's going to hate this," he groaned. "At least she'll be alive," Red Alert snapped.

The "news" came while Ultra Magnus was signing the paperwork the surgeon had brought him. The humans saw the normally stoic soldier freeze, the board and stylus falling from nerveless servos. "We did everything we could. I'm so, so sorry Commander," Red Alert was saying. Smokescreen leapt from his spot by the wall. "There must be some mistake! She can't be dead!" he cried.

Magnus did not need to fake emotion. He recalled the image of his smallest Wrecker's body floating helplessly in the Cocoon and the coolant spilled from his optics of its own accord. Hot Shot neither moved nor spoke; his clenched fists trembled. The declaration was unspoken, but they all felt it: whatever took Miko from them was going to pay dearly.

Magnus steadied Smokescreen with a hand on his shoulder. "She will be remembered." Smokescreen raised his helm and stared into his optics. His voice was low enough that no one else heard him. "_What aren't you saying_?" Rather than answer him, Ultra Magnus turned to Bulkhead, who stood morosely beside the medic, being offered condolences by those who had heard. "I contacted her next of kin," the large mech choked, playing his role to the hilt, "We've arranged for a private memorial service. Friends and family only."

The four Wreckers stood in a circle and clasped each other's arms. "Never forget," Bulkhead said solemnly. "Never forget," the others repeated. The head surgeon shook his heady sadly. "I'm very sorry for your loss, gentlemen," he said, "But I need to know whether you had parental permission to move her to Red Alert's care. For my file, you understand." Hot Shot glared at him. "Oneechan is dead. Who cares about your stupid file?!"

The doctor cleared his throat rather severely. "If you didn't have permission to treat her, that counts as kidnapping on this ship!" Ultra Magnus motioned to the previously discarded paperwork. "K-deck, 16-midship, living quarters. She has..._had_ an uncle. You can talk to Mr. Tezuka if you need to." The younger Wreckers glanced at each other, surprised. **'Isn't Mr. Tezuka...?'** Hot Shot commed Smokescreen. **'Yeah...something weird is going on here.'**

The surgeon thanked Magnus for his "cooperation" and offered condolences once more before returning to H-deck to complete his file. The others who had been in the room shuffled out to give the Wreckers time to grieve. "Alright, what's up?" Smokescreen crossed his arms. "Tezuka is your holoform's name!" "He is also Miko's legal guardian, and has been since her seventeenth birthday," the commander replied calmly. He flashed an uncharacteristic smile. "I know my way around official forms."

"Sooo..." Hot Shot slowly put the pieces together until his optics lit up. "So technically you _could_ Metamorphose her because you _would_ have parental consent!" Bulkhead grinned and slapped the little blue mech on the back. "Good work, kid. Keep it quiet though." "Can we see her?" Smokescreen asked Red Alert earnestly. The medic shook her helm. "It would raise suspicion. You'll have to wait a few months." Hot Shot groaned. "It's not fair! She should be here, or we should be with her!"

"Don't let anyone think you are not grieved," Magnus said sternly, "We will mourn this tragedy for a long time, three months at least." The other Wreckers did their best to school their faceplates into bereaved expressions; it took several seconds to smother their smiles. "I'm just going to wear my goggles and battle mask for a while," Hot Shot decided, "You know, as a sign of mourning." Red Alert scowled at him, "See that you do! And report to the med room in ten days: you're due for a checkup." The horror on the youngling's faceplate made the stern femme chuckle, just a little.

* * *

Pred'akngard: Prison cells

Lugnut sat outside the cells, as he had been doing for hours. The few prisoners in the brig remained silent and watchful, unnerving him with their stares. He hoped Starscream's wretched spawn were being dealt with harshly, it was the only thing he could think of that would make up for not being able to exterminate the arrogant fleshling. Imagine a _human_ waltzing right into the great hall and demanding an audience with Lord Megatron! It was unthinkable!

"Lugnut." The voice came from the end of the room, deadly calm. Lugnut remembered that tone: someone was going to die. The brutish mech stood and walked past the cells to meet Megatronus. As he did so, a whisper ran through the brig: "Dead mech walking!" Lugnut began to be uneasy. Maybe he'd been a trifle harsh to the little femme-brat, but surely he wasn't in _that_ much trouble? The Prime looked him coldly in the optics and merely said, "Come."

Lugnut followed Megatronus out of the Hall to a plateau overlooking the sea. As he stood watching the sunset with his hands locked behind his back, Megatronus spoke, "Tell me, Lugnut: did you believe I would overlook an attempted murder?" "M-murder, my lord?" Lugnut gasped, "I do not understand!" The Prime was calm, almost casual as he answered. "Captain Darby is the son of Optimus Prime, my brother. Do you understand what that means, Lugnut?"

Lugnut trembled in silence, so Megatronus answered for him. "Yes, you made a grave mistake today. And I understand that this is not your first offense, or did you believe I would always trust your word over the Triplets'?" He turned away from the sea and stalked towards Lugnut, optics blazing. "To attack Starscream's younglings is to attack me, just as an attack upon Captain Darby is an attack upon Optimus," he growled.

Lugnut threw himself on his knees, whimpering and begging for mercy. "Get up!" Megatronus snarled, disgusted. He glared at the green and purple soldier. "I give you two choices, Lugnut. First choice: you publicly apologize to the Trine and the Boy, and are banished from my provinces forever. Second choice: you face me, here and now, in single combat." Lugnut's pride and prejudices would never allow him to humiliate himself by apologizing. He summoned his cannon and hoped that off-lining would be swift.

* * *

Ismaros: Outer rings

Gigawatt watched the screen intently, one servo tapping nervously at her cheek. "Gigawatt, is my Da back yet?" Marge hollered from the door. The older femme scowled. "Go away, kid! I'm watching my stories!" she scolded. The human rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course. Silly me, I thought you were doing your job!" "Hey, nothin's going to happen out here without twenty alarms goin' off!" Gigawatt protested, "Besides, Endline's got it covered."

The femme in question winked at Marge. "Oh no," she said in mock consternation, "I think I saw a blip on the screen! Deploy lasers now?" The DVD case for the period drama Gigawatt was addicted to made a satisfying _thwack_ against Endline's faceplate. The short burst of a com alert trilled through the air. "**_Captain's back_**," Justin said over the com unit, "_**Endline, he wants to talk to ya**_."

Endline hurried to the forward deck of their little craft, where Centurion was being tended by Coron, the resident medic. He was covered in dents, and one of his arms was at a strange angle. "Centurion! What happened to you?!" Endline gasped. The captain of the Sector Sweep team grinned sheepishly. "Well, I picked up a tip on where we might find some information about our mystery attackers. That's the good news." Luis popped a dent out of Centurion's shoulder and shook his head in exasperation. "Do we even want to _know_ what the bad news is?" he asked.

"The bad news is that we have to go back to Keller's Holt."

* * *

_Next time, on "Survival":_

_"Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Windblade. She'll be joining us for a while."_

_"What was that?!"_

_"It was Shockwave's. The lab, I mean."_

_"Are you sure you're ready for this?"_

_"Jack, we're going to Cybertron."_

* * *

**And that is why you don't mess with Megatron's family.**

**Feedback is welcomed!**


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

**So is doing this thing right now where all the pm's I send are jumbled up and weird looking. Like, every third or fourth word/phrase disappears and it makes no sense when you read it. Anyone else having this problem?**

**I get the feeling this chapter is going to be a long one...**

**I own only unrecognizable characters and settings, Elsie belongs to UTHEMAN**

_Last time, on "Survival":_

_"So...technically you could Metamorphose her because you would have parental consent!"_

_"Cygnus 26 sent no distress signal." "They were hiding something."_

_"Before this escalates any further, the Boy must Metamorphose...take him to Cybertron."_

_"To attack Starscream's younglings is to attack me!"_

_"We have to go back to Keller's Holt."_

* * *

Ismaros: outer rings

Scanning craft: _Tranquility_

Endline and Luis stared at Captain Centurion. "Go back to Keller's Holt? All of us?!" the medic squawked in disbelief. "All of us? No! What are you, a lunatic?" Centurion snorted, "D'ye think I want my little girl going back there? Or Justin or Geist or Irene?" He shook his helm. "I was thinking more along the lines of Apollo, Endline and myself," he reasoned.

"I take it that's why you called for me?" the femme guessed. Centurion made a curious little half-smile before he replied. "Well, that's part of it. Mainly, I was going to ask how your counseling sessions with Nurse Darby are going?" Endline beamed, a genuine smile that showed her denta. "It really does help to talk to her on the com, sir. She has a lot of insights that I don't get here, no offense." Centurion returned her smile and playfully batted her helm. "Ah, that's why we referred you to her, lass! Do us a favor and find Apollo, will you? I'd rather get this trip over with."

As the Vehicon femme exited, Centurion watched with something akin to pride on his faceplate. "She's come a long way," Coron observed, leaning against the console. Centurion nodded, remembering the terrified youngling his patrol had found hiding under the remains of her family, early in the War for Cybertron. "Talking to humans has been good for her," he decided, "I think you help her look at life from a different perspective."

Luis finished the last of the repairs to Centurion's frame with a paradoxically gentle roughness. "Probably no point in this, is there?" he sighed. If his captain got into another fight, all his work would be undone. Centurion's booming guffaw made the toolkit rattle on the deck as Endline returned with the stoic shuttle. He straightened his faceplate and locked his hands behind his back. "I know you've been working hard," he apologized, "but I'm going to need backup in Keller's Holt. You don't have to come, but I'd sure appreciate the company."

Apollo shuttered his optics once, then bowed his head politely before turning to leave. "_Where are you going_?" Endline whispered, confused. Apollo pointed in the direction of the human quarters, pointed to Endline's shoulder, then tapped his own shoulder. It was understood that he meant he would not leave without their respective human partners, Inoue and Petrovych. Centurion frowned. He would rather have left the humans behind, but he had to admit that there was probably some information that would be more readily given to a human. He supposed Petrovych could take care of himself, and Inoue knew how to avoid trouble.

It took little convincing for the men to decide to join the expedition. Leaving Zettabyte in command of their scanning vessel, "_Tranquility_", the spy team set out for Argus. Keller's Holt certainly hadn't improved since their last visit. A hostile glare seemed to be the default expression of the inhabitants. From what Centurion had gathered, the individual with the information could be found in a sleazy joint called "Borgia's". The name alone set the tone for the encounter. The ceiling was barely high enough for Centurion and Endline to walk comfortably-Apollo had to duck constantly. Smoke from the designated humans' section of the establishment filled the air with a grimy haze that coiled and clung.

Petrovych slid down Apollo's arm and landed with a thump on the bar counter. "Come on, kid," he called up to Inoue, "They're selling burritos for 25 cents!" Apollo frowned. "Be careful, my friend. That it is cheap is no guarantee of quality." The green-haired man rolled his eyes. Apollo wasn't quite understanding their instructions to blend in, it would seem. Endline elbowed him in the tank as she set Dean down beside Petrovych. "Oh. My apologies," the explorer said, "I shall look around. Go and...enjoy?..your burritos of 25 cents."

As the three Cybertronians disappeared into the swirling smoke, Fiyodr and Dean walked over to the human-sized tables (separated from the rest of the bar for safety's sake: no one wanted to be squished by an unwary Transformer.) At the counter, a bright-eyed young woman greeted them with a cheerful grin. "Welcome to Borgia's, gentlemen. What's your poison?" "Poison?!" squeaked Inoue, still caught up in worries over cheap burritos. Fiyodr rolled his eyes once more and spoke to the woman, playing up his Russian accent _outrageously_.

"Eh, we'll take house special. You are..." He squinted at her name tag, "Elsie, _da_? Don't mind him." He threw a comradely arm around Dean's shoulders. "He is not used to the bars. He is, how you say, sheltered?" Dean scowled at him. "_Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?_" he hissed. Elsie raised one delicate eyebrow as if amused by a private joke. "Sheltered, huh? Oh hon, that won't last long in a dive like this." Annoyed, Inoue shoved Petrovych's arm off of his shoulders. "Yeah, alright then."

He pulled up a barstool and calmly asked her whether they'd had any trouble coming from neighboring sectors. Elsie shook her head, whipping a brown ponytail back and forth (which nearly blinded an unfortunate passerby). "No more than the usual, unless you're counting that Nal Hutta group that got eviscerated way out near the asteroid belts," she answered. "Eviscerated?" The men were instantly on the alert. "We did not know of this! You can elaborate, _da_?" Petrovych asked, interested.

At that moment, across the building, Centurion sat across from an oily-looking bot appropriately named Swindle. The con mech was charging an exorbitant price for even the slightest hint about the mystery attackers. Only the discombobulating presence of Apollo kept him from inflating the price any more. "Hey, cut a mech a break!" he wheedled, "I put my chassis on the line to get this info! Do we have a deal or not?" Disgusted, Centurion handed over the promised price and waited.

After inspecting the currency, Swindle leaned back in his seat with a satisfied smirk. "Well that's better! So, I hear from reliable sources that these nasty fellows have been seen before." Apollo stiffened at the idea. He was even more unhappy with the next words spoken: "I can't tell you much, for security reasons, you understand. Still, if you want the truth, I suggest asking somebot what _really_ happened on the Cygnus 26."

In the meantime, Endline had been standing at the bar, attempting to disappear. A rather tipsy mech had been trying to get her attention for the better part of the trip, and was getting more and more persistent. As her temper began to fray, Endline refused to answer him. She knew that the moment he got too close, she would have a hard time not punching him in the faceplate. The timely appearance of Apollo saved her from starting the brawl. That's not to say a brawl didn't start, merely that Endline was not the instigator.

As she turned to greet her friend, the tipsy fellow heard Endline's naturally deep voice. "What the-? I thought you were a femme!" he blurted out. There were about three seconds of silence before Apollo had him by the foot, dangling in the air. "Apologize." he commanded sternly. One of the unfortunate fellow's friends attempted to sneak up on Apollo with a drawn blade. There was a ringing clang, and the would-be assassin fell to the floor. Centurion stood behind him holding a dented serving tray.

"For the love of all that is holy!" he exclaimed, "Is this going to happen every time we go out?!" Then all hades broke loose. Somebot launched himself from another table. "They can't do that to Oilslick! Let's get 'em!" Three or four Cybertronians and Cybaartarians raced towards the three Autobots. Apollo grunted and used Oilslick as a club, sending two of the attackers flying into the walls with an almighty crash. One skulking brute thought he could get the drop on Endline and grabbed her from behind. Keller's Holt being what it was, no one paid any mind when Endline ripped his arm off and slapped him across the face with it.

From the humans' side, Dean and Fiyodr watched, dumbstruck. Petrovych found his voice first. "Well, what do you know? The movies aren't too far off after all!" Elsie shook her head and grumbled under her breath. When a fight started on one side of Borgia's, it was only a matter of time before it spread to the whole joint. Sure enough, a rather drunk man started loudly insulting Autobots, and the Cybertronian race in general. "Oh. Shiny," Dean snarled. On and on the man blathered about the "monstrosities" that were "controlling the people" and how humans needed to "rise up and destroy the droids!"

He pointed at the nearest metallic being, a rather confused Cybaartarian. "Like that piece of junk!" he slurred, "Dismantle 'em all, I say!" "That's my _sister_, you creep!" a woman shouted before flinging herself at the man's head. Suddenly Dean and Fiyodr were hiding behind the counter with Elsie as a miniature war broke out. Glasses, mugs, stools and even playing cards were being used as weapons and were subsequently sent flying through the air over their heads.

On the Cybertronian half of the bar fight, three of four opponents lay on the floor nursing dents and twisted limbs. Endline had thrown the fourth over the counter and was leaning casually on his helm. Apollo still held the insulting mech by the ankle and glowered at him until he miserably stuttered an apology to Endline. Centurion calmly put away his energon mace. "Right, that's sorted then," he beckoned to Apollo and Endline. "Let's go before what passes for law enforcement around here decides to show." As they moved to gather their human partners, the captain looked down at the scratches and dents on his armor and could be heard to mutter, "St. Geneviève defend us, my wife is going to kill me!"

On the humans' half, the drunk who had started the fight was left reeling. Elsie jerked her thumb towards the door. "I think you've had enough," she drawled, "I believe you were just leaving?" The angry man swayed on his feet, glaring. "Look at you all, hobnobbing with robots like they're the best thing that's ever happened to us humans!" He took one wobbly step forward, pointing at the girl who had defended her Cybaartarian sister. "Well one of these days, you'll recognize humanity's _real_ enemy!"

In the tense silence that followed, he attempted to make a dramatic exit, but misjudged the distance and made a rather impressive face plant into the steel door. Elsie raised an eyebrow and spoke dispassionately. The sarcastic narration echoed in the silent but crowded room, "And mankind's greatest enemy appeared: doors."

* * *

Colony 21186D, Red Alert's chambers

Miko shifted slightly in the Coccoon. She was sedated heavily, and could not feel her bones and nerves reformatting as the Cybertronium framework that would support her frame. She only knew that she was alive, and someone was singing. She wondered if perhaps the singer was the angel she seemed to remember seeing. Unconsciously, Miko smiled and curled into herself.

"It's truly amazing, isn't?" Red Alert asked softly. She and Bulkhead stood in the darkened room watching the lit tank. Already, the girl's skin had taken a silvery hue, and her limbs were beginning to segment themselves, and she had only been immersed for three weeks. "It's like watching a baby develop," Bulkhead whispered, "Beautiful, but very strange." The medic nodded and released the next dose of CNA into the Cocoon.

"Windblade is responding well to the treatment," she said briskly, "but it remains to be seen whether her mind has been affected by the trauma. Or whether she retains her memories." Bulkhead hoped that would not be the case. He wasn't sure his spark-or that of any other Wrecker, for that matter-would be able to bear up if she didn't recognize them.

There was no more to be said. Bulkhead traded places with Wheeljack, come for his allotted two hours with Miko/Windblade and Red Alert resumed her singing. The young one floating in the cybermatter squinched her slowly forming optics and sighed contentedly. What did it matter that she didn't know what was going on? She was warm, she was safe, and people who loved her were nearby.

She was _home_.

* * *

Cybertron: the Well of All Sparks

_Home._ What a strange feeling it was, to be back on Cybertron after so long a time in Eden. Optimus stood before the Well of All Sparks, hope and worry mingled in his spark. It had taken several days for June to agree to this. While it had not been the first time they had disagreed over something, it was certainly the first time they had openly argued with each other, a fact neither was proud of. It was not until he had assured her that Cybertronian Metamorphoses did not affect the cognitive abilities of the subject that she had relented.

Now, they waited as Predaking climbed from the Well to meet them. "Greetings, Guardian of the Well," June said politely. The Predacons were very concerned with honor and the proper forms of greeting. To insult a Predacon, after all, could be a fatal mistake. The dragon dipped his wings toward the woman graciously before transforming. "Well-met, Mother Edenite," he answered smoothly. He turned to Optimus and tilted his helm. "What has brought you home, Hunter?"

Optimus informed the self-appointed guardian of the situation with the Sparkeaters and the reason they had come to Cybertron. "As our own corner of the galaxy is no longer as safe as we had hoped, we have been advised to begin Jackson's Metamorphosis here, at the Well," he murmured. In his hands, Jack squeezed his mother's hand reassuringly. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he whispered as her eyes began to water.

June gave a weak chuckle and wiped her eyes. "I'm supposed to be asking you that!" she gulped. Predaking held out one massive hand. "Give him to me." For a moment, Optimus's servos tightened, holding the boy and his mother closer to his spark. Then, slowly, he relaxed his guard to let Jack move from his hand to the Predacon's. The great beast nodded and began to walk away. The Prime felt his spark tighten and could only imagine what June was feeling. _There is still time_, he thought. He could still snatch Jackson away from Predaking, and fly home to Eden.

But he restrained himself, and merely called out to the young human, "My son." The boy leaned out to look back. "I do not fully understand everything that is about to happen, but I know that you will be safe here." June gripped his servo for support. "I'm coming down as soon as you're in the Cocoon, honey," she said, "I'll be here the whole time." "I must meet with Megatronus soon, but I promise that as soon as I can, I shall return," Optimus added as he lowered Jack's mother to the ground.

Jack's smile showed none of his apprehension as Predaking began the descent into the planet's core. "I know, Optimus," he said, "I trust you." June began to follow them, but stopped to look back. "Orion...be careful," she pleaded, "He's going to need you when he wakes up. We both will." The mighty warrior smiled sadly. "And I cannot help but feel that I shall need the two of you upon my return."

* * *

Dead Space, Sector 12E

The wreckage of the Cygnus 26

"I don't see why I had to be dragged out of the lab in the middle of an experiment!" Ratchet groused, "Do you realize how delicate those calculations were?" "I am sure that Rafael has successfully completed them by now," Optimus said placatingly. The two Autobots waited on a small craft for the arrival of the Kaonians. They were not waiting long. A Space Bridge opened and Megatronus exited, followed by Soundwave. The four stared at the derelict vessel floating before them.

Once a proud and brightly-colored vessel, the Cygnus 26 now listed to the side with a massive hole in her hull, like a gaping maw. "Do we have to go in there?" Ratchet whispered, armor shifting in discomfort. Optimus merely navigated their vessel forward to come closer the the wreck. A deep sense of foreboding hovered over the investigators as they climbed in through the breach.

Even in the silence of space, the corridors were eerily quiet. Not even the faintest hint of light glimmered in the heavy darkness. They deliberately avoided the cockpit, where they knew they would find the long-dead captain and crew. The Primes were focused on the cargo bay, having come to the conclusion that the ship was hiding something.

The doors were rusted shut, and although one red light blinked on the console, not even Soundwave could make it work. Placing their shoulder-guards to the door, Megatronus and Optimus rammed it down. Nothing could have prepared them for what lay behind it.

Optimus staggered back, nearly collapsing. "Oh Primus," he gasped, "Oh _Primus_!" The scene inside the dank hold could only be described as a holocaust. Twisted and broken skeletons varying in size and age littered the room, and dark stains marred the walls and floor. The mutilated husks of eight Cybertronians hung from shackles on the wall, each branded with the Decepticon symbol, and twelve tanks stood in a corner, six of them still holding their unspeakable contents.

Ratchet followed Soundwave to a wall filled with preservative cannisters. "I wouldn't," he warned the spy. A look inside one of them sent the emotionless mech reeling. He tore his visor from his face and retched silently, tears flowing down his faceplate. Megatronus steeled himself against the horrors and forced himself to open the damaged computer and examine the files. "It was Shockwave's. The lab." he choked.

He selected a file-it was audio. The tortured sounds that rent the air left the four warriors huddled together miserably. "In all my years as a tyrant, a warlord," Megatronus whispered, "Never have I encountered such an atrocity. Never." Optimus shook his helm. "Ratchet and I have, once before. It was a very dark time in Earth's history, during one of their wars. They never forgot what happened in the death camps, just as we will never forget what has happened in this place," he said gravely.

Soundwave deleted the audio file with a vicious twist of his fingers, and tapped Ratchet's arm. The medic squinted at the data scrolling before his optics. "Oh_ no_, oh Primus _forbid!_" his optics were blurry now, filled with coolant. "He was trying to force a Metamorphosis, two years before Metamorphosis was invented." The sheer disgust in Ratchet's voice only grew as he read further. "Six of the experiments lived. "_Perfect_" he calls them. He imprinted them with his own ethical subroutines, or lack thereof."

Megatronus kicked over one of the tanks with an enraged scream. "How could we have _missed_ this? Where were the warning signs?!" As the tank fell, part of the wall came away with it, revealing one last horrific discovery. Impaled on a support beam was the mastermind behind the whole affair. Most of him. The evil mech's body exhibited the same damage as the Sparkeater attacks. On the wall next to him were the words: SHOCKWAVE: OUR BELOVED PROGENITOR. It was written in his own energon.

The investigators made their way out of the lab, each supporting the other. "Soundwave, do you have the evidence?" Megatronus asked. The spy replaced his visor, tears still leaking from the bottom of it, and nodded. "Then destroy this affront to life!" the Prime snarled. Three grenades might have been considered excessive in any situation but that. Megatronus turned to Optimus. "You have seen something like this before, brother, tell me: what can you do after you have witnessed the unthinkable?" It was Ratchet who answered as Optimus stooped to reclaim his fallen sword. "We returned to the base, and held our young ones close."

* * *

Sector 12D

Colony 21186D

The Trine zipped out of the Space Bridge so quickly that they nearly collided with each other upon stopping. "There she is," Sunstorm whispered almost reverently, "Storm Front." Ramjet trilled happily and performed an impromptu loop-the-loop over his siblings' helms. "And we're on the flight patrol! Can you believe it?" Slipstream grinned widely and threw her arms around her brothers' necks. "Not to jinx it or anything, but this is going to be the coolest mission ever!"

If the space they flew through on their way to the ship seemed a little colder than was natural, none of them noticed. "What was that?" Ramjet wondered, optics catching a hint of movement. When nothing appeared on his scanners, he shrugged and rejoined his Trine. _No sense being late to your first assignment_, he thought.

* * *

_Next time, on "Survival":_

_"I'm Slipstream! Who're you?" "I'm...Windblade."_

_"I know what you did, Commander. I've half a mind to report you to the Primes!"_

_"I've never seen any youngling develop armor so quickly before. It is an ominous sign." "Why is that?" "It means war is coming."_

* * *

**Well. That was intense... I'm glad that's out of the way though. D'aww, little Miko dreams of angels. As long as they're not Weeping Angels, everything's fine. Also, St. Genevieve is apparently the patron saint of disasters. I thought this counted as one, so Centurion mentions her.**


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**Sorry this took so long. I know where the story's going and how it ends, but I was having trouble remembering what I wanted to happen in this chapter. If you want a good idea of what Windblade looks like, you can find her picture on the Transformers Wiki**

_Last time, on "Survival":_

_"Find out what really happened to the Cygnus 26."_

_"Oh Primus!"_

_"Never have I seen such an atrocity. Never."_

_"Windblade is responding well to the treatments."_

_"There she is: Storm Front!"_

* * *

Colony 21186D: flight deck 13

Slipstream was bored. A bored Slipstream was a dangerous Slipstream, as her brothers knew all too well, so they kept well out of her way. As it turned out, life in the floating colony wasn't quite as exciting as they'd hoped. Sure, there was a lot of room to fly, and when they got to go on patrols they were almost completely independent (except for the part where they weren't.) Orientation had been great, but then for the next two months it had been nothing but drills and (Allspark help her) _school_. No one was being allowed outside of the ship at all!

Slipstream flung herself over the edge of her berth and groaned. It was times like this that she wished she had some femme friends her age. Most of the younglings aboard were ground-bound, and tended towards their own cliques. Well, there was this one techno-organic upperclassman femme who was sort of friendly, but she reminded Slipstream too much of Airachnid. _Not desperate, thank you very much!_ Slipstream thought.

She really wanted to talk to someone about the mech in her flight patrol, Jetstorm. He made her tank feel fuzzy and she didn't know why! She was _not_ about to ask her Carrier-Primus knew where the femme was anyway-and her brothers would just tease her. Across the room, Sunstorm was studying the regulation book for 21186D, and Ramjet was in the middle of a rather animated discussion with a hologram of Megatronus Prime.

He had been calling more frequently, they had noticed, since they'd arrived. Their first night in their new quarters, he'd contacted them to ask if they were settling in. He hid it well, but Ramjet thought he looked upset about something. After that, he established a twice-weekly calling routine: an hour with each of them separately. Ramjet still had forty minutes with the Prime, and then it would be Sunstorm's turn. Slipstream gave up and decided to go exploring.

* * *

Colony 21186D: Red Alert's chambers

"Just put one pede in front of the other. That's it, Baby Sis, you got it," Wheeljack encouraged, holding both hands out to the wobbly-legged youngling. Windblade tottered and nearly tumbled back into the open Coccoon, arms windmilling. Bulkhead lurched forward to catch her, but was stopped at the last minute by Wheeljack. "Come on, Bulk. Don't do that! She's gotta learn to walk on her own, right Miko?"

The slim red femme gritted her denta and focused on finding her balance before answering. "Y-yeah! No problem, Bulk. I got this!" She didn't sound especially sure of herself. Grabbing hold of the wall, she inched her way to her fellow Wreckers. "Ok guys," she sighed, "What's the damage? Come on, just tell me I don't look like Jackie." "Hey!" Wheeljack pretended to look offended. The younger teammates gulped and exchanged glances. "Miko," Smokescreen began gently, "I don't know how to tell you this, but-"

"_Alpha Trion's Beard_, you're pretty!" Hot Shot interrupted, jaw hanging slack. It was true: delicate blue highlights set off her wrists, ankles and neck against the bright red, and somehow her faceplate and helm had come out looking like a traditional kabuki mask. Windblade examined her reflection in the tank with interest. "Dude! I look like I still have hair! That rocks," she laughed. Suddenly her face fell. "I don't have hair anymore," she muttered, "Or skin, or organs."

Abruptly, she burst into tears. Panicking, the Wreckers dithered back and forth about what to do until Hot Shot asked the obvious question: "Oneechan, what's wrong?" The tears doubled in volume and intensity and Bulkhead unceremoniously expelled Hot Shot and Smokescreen from the room. "Aw, Miko," he pleaded, "Please don't cry! You can tell me what's wrong, can't you?" The small femme flung herself into her partner's arms and sobbed. In bits and pieces, he got the reason from her. "I just realized that there's a whole list of human things I'm never going to get to do!"

Wheeljack cringed as he met Bulkhead's optics. They hadn't thought of this. Windblade's hiccuping cries continued as she lamented the life that Mikoto Nakadai would never have. "I'm never gonna fall in love with a human guy, or get a human wedding, or have human babies," she sniffled, "I can't eat food, or drink soda, and I won't even get old like my human friends! I'm gonna have to grow up all over again!" Bulkhead wrapped his partner in a tight embrace. "I know, Miko. I'm sorry. Nobody ever said this was going to be easy." "I can't even use my own _name_ anymore!" The youngling shrieked, "What kind of messed up life is this?!"

Red Alert took charge of the situation, bustling in and pulling the distraught Windblade from Bulkhead's arms. "Now, now," she said firmly, "You'll settle in an hour or two. The name "Windblade" was your idea, if you'll remember, dear." She led the young femme to a bench and sat her down, handing her a small, diluted energon cube to sip from. "Post-transformation distress in common enough in Cybaartarians, especially the ones that Metsmorphose under stressful circumstances. It wears off quickly."

Shaking the femme nodded slowly. "C-can I walk around a little? Out there?" she rasped, once the tears had stopped. "Sure thing, Kid," "Bad idea, Miko," the two Wreckers glared at each other. "I'm her _partner_," Bulkhead stated. "And I'm her _dad_. Or brother. Or something," Wheeljack shrugged. Windblade made a face. "I'm just gonna go, 'kay?" While her friends debated authority roles, she slipped out the side door, aided by an amused Red Alert.

* * *

Colony 21186D: 7 Forward

Slipstream wandered aimlessly through the recreation deck, delighted. How had she not known about an entire holo-room? She and her brothers would definitely be reserving that for a game of _Wreck-gar Hood and his Merry Junkions_ later. The humans were all very friendly, some going out of their way to greet her and ask whether she was lost. They all seemed to know each other pretty well, and a new face stood out. After turning down tea with a bald man who reminded her of Optimus Prime, Slipstream backed into another youngling and both went down with identical squeals of dismay.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" cried the first. "It was my fault," Slipstream blushed, "Me and my big wings." The red femme grinned ruefully back at her, and the red, sweeping marks under her optics curled over the tops with her embarrassment. "Whoa!" Slipstream gaped. "That was so cool! How did you get your face to do that?" "Do what?" "That optic-mark thing!" The other shrugged. "I don't know, they just do that I guess."

Slipstream stood up and dusted herself off, then reached down to help the other youngling to her pedes. "I'm Slipstream, who're you?" she asked cheerfully. "I'm...Windblade," the red femme answered almost shyly. "Nice to meet you!" Slipstream very nearly squealed, "Are you new here too?" Windblade barely kept herself from responding _No, I've been here for two years!_, remembering her cover story just in time. "Yeah, I came in from Cybertron to live with my uncle Wheeljack."

She rocked back and forth on her heels, perfectly capturing the look of an impatient youngling of her physical age. "I'm thinking of picking my first alt-form today, but my uncle probably thinks I'm not ready yet!" Slipstream's optics lit up. This was her chance to have another femme flyer around! "I know some really sweet alt-modes you might like," she suggested, "if you don't mind the part where they belong to my annoying brothers!"

Windblade laughed and threw a friendly arm around Slipstream's shoulders. "Oh believe me, I know _all_ about annoying brothers. Lead the way!" Servo in servo, the two fairly skipped back to the flight decks, giggling about mechs and brothers and other such things. When they arrived, Sunstorm was standing in the corridor holding the holo-com. "_There_ you are!" He sounded relieved. "It's your turn with the com, sis, where were y-" He stopped, suddenly noticing Windblade. "Hi..." he finished lamely. The peals of giggles that echoed in the hall left the poor mech utterly confused.

From the corner, a pair of human eyes narrowed. "I know what you did, Commander." A voice growled, "And I've half a mind to report you to the Primes!"

* * *

Cybertron: halfway down the Well of All Sparks

The tube set into the walls of the Well glowed with a brilliant sapphire light around the small form within. June rubbed her tired eyes and leaned back in the chair Darksteel had brought for her. The air around her began to crackle and him with energy. The woman smiled and braced herself for the coming burst. With a sound like a thousand voices singing, a green ball of light rocketed out of the base of the Well and into the sky above.

"That one will be a Predacon, Mother Edenite," the rolling timbre of the Predaking's voice startled Nurse Darby. "How do you know, Guardian of the Well?" she asked, genuinely curious. The warrior smiled and returned to sit cross-legged before the Cocoon. "Because my subject Ser-khet has greatly desired a sparkling of her own, and begged a child of Primus, not two nights past," he answered calmly, "For whom else could it be?"

June smiled. "Well I hope so, for Ser-khet's sake. Motherhood isn't always easy, but it is always worth any struggle." Predaking returned her smile and turned to watch the Cocoon. "It is interesting," he mused, "I've never seen any youngling develop armor so quickly before. It is an ominous sign." "Why is that?" "It means war is coming." "_War_?" June gasped, "Are you certain, Guardian?"

The dragon bowed his helm to fix her in his yellow stare. "I wish that I was not, Mother Edenite. But such has been the way of Cybertron before my time, and it will be so after my time. If the sparkling is going to be in danger early in its life, the Maker will not send them into the universe completely unprepared." Within the tank, Jack shifted his new optics from the Predaking to his mother, quietly listening to every word that was spoken.

The roar of a mighty engine warned them of the arrival of a ship. Before long, Optimus began to climb down to meet them. "Prime," the dragon greeted him. "Guardian," the warrior returned. His voice was weary and his faceplates haggard. "Orion, you look _awful_!" June cried. The Prime managed a tiny smile and knelt beside her seat. "What happened?" the woman asked softy as Optimus placed a hand on the Cocoon in greeting.

Very slowly, Jack moved one servo to touch Optimus's through the glass, optics shining with concern. The Prime shook his helm. "I am sorry, it is not something I can speak of so soon." He watched the young one in the Cocoon for a while, the tender expression on his face matching that of Nurse Darby's. Then he stood and began to climb further down into the Well of All Sparks.

"Hunter, what are you doing?" Predaking asked, suddenly wary. Optimus smiled sadly at the Predacon. "I am going to seek counsel, Predaking. If I am needed, I shall be in the planet's core."

* * *

_Next time, on "Survival":_

_"Who is this?" "Megatronus, I would like you to meets son."_

_"I have learned a potential weakness of the Sparkeaters."_

_"Captain, the trail is leading to Colony 21186D!"_

_"What's going on out there?"_

_"You again?!"_

* * *

**Ok, folks. I need your help. I think Jack will use a Cybertronian name in public, but I can't decide on one. I have three ideas, but I'm open to suggestions.**

**Possible names:**

**1. Aidos (named for the Greek spirit of respect)**

**2. Talos (an ancient brass golem in Greek mythology)**

**3. Helios (Greek sun god)**


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**Transformers are copyright of Hasbro. I own the other stuff, but it's ****_not_**** copyrighted. All the same, if it gets used somewhere else, I should hope I was credited. This is about a month of work! (Sixteen chapters, can you believe it? I can't!)**

* * *

_Last time, on "Survival":_

_"I'm...Windblade." "I know some pretty sweet alt-modes you might like!"_

_"I know what you did, Commander."_

_"Hunter, what are you doing?" "I am going to seek counsel."_

_"War is coming."_

* * *

Pred'akngard: Starscream's memorial

_"You never trusted Shockwave, did you?"_ Once again, Megatronus found himself staring contemplatively at the statue of his former SIC. The compassionate expression on the stone faceplates never wavered. "Of course," Megatronus amended, "You were taught the moment you were sparked that mechs from Tarn were not to be trusted." He shook his heavy helm. This was his fault. If he had kept a closer watch on his Decepticons, perhaps he could have stopped Shockwave's horrific experiments. If the Sparkeaters were not caught, the slaughter could well reach genocidal proportions.

"What was it you said once?" he mused, "It was before the last battle with the Unmaker. Wasn't it, _regret is the most corrosive poison in the universe_?" He clenched his mighty fist. "I regret not killing Shockwave when I had the chance," he hissed, "And yet I could find it within my spark to pity him, so horrible was his death." He turned and stalked away, aimlessly following stone corridors. He stopped at a window, and stared up at the stars.

Suddenly, his spark was seized with a pang of fear for the Triplets. In his mind's eye he could still see the mangled bodies in the lab, and his imagination projected the faces of the younglings onto the corpses. With a cry, he tore himself from the window and shuttered his optics. He trembled as he recalled the last known trajectory of Shockwave's monstrosities. "Soundwave!" he barked into his communicator, "Assemble a squadron of elite soldiers and prepare a Bridge to 12D. And send word to my brother: I fear the war is upon us."

Rightly guessing that his Prime's mind was bent towards Colony 21186D, Soundwave sent him a report that had filtered through his systems minutes before. The human Wrecker, it seemed, had met with misfortune in 12D and illegally transformed. Interesting.

* * *

Colony 21186D, H-deck

Roger S. Andon was an intelligent man. He flattered himself that he could hold his own in a game of chess with Soundwave himself. He had known that something was wrong the instant Ultra Magnus had removed the Nakadai girl from his care. You didn't just take a badly injured human from the best surgeon in the ship and give her to a medic only used to treat Cybertronians. Not unless you were planning Metamorphosis. The stylus pressed into the holopad harder, perhaps, than was necessary as Andon wrote his report.

If word got around that Cybertronians were above the law, then "all the Pit would break loose", to use the vernacular. If they could choose who was Metamorphosed and when, regardless of age, then who was safe? Andon shuddered to think of a world where humans were endangered or extinct, slowly but surely twisted to suit the dominant species. Not on his watch! He signed his name to the document and sent it to the municipal departments. There, he thought, let the Wreckers try to wriggle out of that!

It was a request to have "Windblade" removed from Magnus's custody-permanently. He would be reported for breaking the law, and Andon would be commended for blowing the whistle. It was foolproof! Or, it would be if the Colony didn't run on the same form of government as Pred'akngard and Eden. That was why Andon made certain to send the report to a human official, who would likely be more sympathetic to him. Roger S. Andon was an intelligent man, and soon everyone would know it.

* * *

Wreckers headquarters, Colony 21186D

"Commander, you've got to believe that I'm on your side here," the security officer sighed. "I'm not sure I can, Sheriff Simmons," Magnus replied coldly, "Not when you come down here to tell me I'm under arrest." The sheriff tried reasoning with the giant mech. "Look, nobody's getting arrested," she said soothingly, "I just need you to come down to the central hub and answer some questions, that's all." Bulkhead scowled and moved to block the door.

"And what about this request to take Windblade, huh?" he asked belligerently. Smokescreen crossed his arms over his chassis and glared down at the middle-aged woman. "Wheeljack is her only family left! You can't take her away because some random dude asked you to!" The woman planted her fists on her hips and coolly stared the Wreckers down. "Not so fast,_ kijinga_*, it doesn't work like that, got it? I have four teenagers, I know how this works. You don't get to intimidate me."

Ultra Magnus nodded, and the young Wrecker backed down. "Apologies, Sheriff." The stern woman shook her head and sighed. "Listen to me: if there is no evidence of abuse or neglect, the man who sent the report can't request that a child be separated from its family. He is not a relative, it would just be wrong. I'm going to fight this, but I need your cooperation,_ sawasawa_*?" The Wreckers glanced reluctantly at each other. Dafina Simmons was an honest person. If she said she'd help them, she would, but how could they explain the circumstances of Miko's transformation in a way that would gain them sympathy

"Out of curiosity, where is this "Windblade" now?" Sheriff Simmons asked. Wheeljack shrugged, affecting lightheartedness. "I let her and Hot Shot run down to Seven Forward to play in the holo room. She's supposed to call before she comes back." Dafina nodded. "When she gets back, I need to talk to her too-with your supervision, of course." Wheeljack opted not to tell the sheriff that the youngest Wreckers were actually hiding until the trouble blew over.

* * *

Colony 21186D: flight deck 13

Ramjet answered the rapid knocking at the door to discover his sister's new friend and a mech that looked like he was probably her brother. "Hi!" he said cheerfully, "Slipstream's training now, but I'm not! Wanna help me catch bugs?" Hot Shot blinked, confused by the chaotic Kaonian, but Windblade had met him once before, and remembered his quirky personality. "Uh, sure, Ramjet!" she faked a smile as the two were ushered into the cramped but cozy quarters. Ramjet propped his chin on his servos. "What's wrong, Windy-can I call you Windy?-you look sad!"

Hot Shot grinned. "Windy?" he whispered. Windblade shot him a warning look before turning to answer Ramjet's question. "I'm ok, Ramjet. But someone wants to take me away from my family, and we don't know if the police will agree with them or not." Hot Shot nodded in agreement. "Basically, we're looking for a place to hide her, just in case they decide she can't live with the Wreckers anymore."

Ramjet was horrified. "They can take younglings away from their families?!" he squealed. His distress was so potent that it actually drew Sunstorm and Slipstream from the training room next door. They listened to Windblade's explanation. "Given that this sounds like a human/Transformer custody battle, I have to ask: Are you Cybertronian, or Cybaartarian?" Slipstream asked shrewdly. "What difference does it make?!" Hot Shot demanded. The clever femme pounced on his words.

"You didn't deny one or the other, so I assume she's Cybaartarian." Slipstream looked slightly hurt that her new friend hadn't seen fit to tell her this. Windblade did not meet her optics. "I didn't _want_ to lie to you," she said quietly, "but I was afraid that something like this would happen." Slipstream's optics softened in understanding, as did her brothers'.

"Yeah," Sunstorm agreed, "If our Carrier showed up and demanded custody of us, I'd probably hide too." His faceplates brightened with an idea. "You two can hide here!" he suggested.

"Wait, really?" Windblade blinked. The Trine began conspiring together about ways to hide their friends, including a rather outlandish plot to smuggle them to Pred'akngard in barrels of energon. In the end it was decided that they would keep the two Wreckers in their quarters, which was technically Kaonian soil, and threaten any interlopers with the wrath of Megatronus.

"I _like_ these guys," Hot Shot declared, ruffling Ramjet's helm, "They know how to manage mischief!"

* * *

Scanning craft "Tranquility", Sector 12B

_She ran across the battlefield, lungs burning like her eyes. Someone was screaming: a gut-wrenching howl of anguish. She thought it sounded like Inoue. Marge whimpered and covered her ears as she took shelter behind a twisted mass of metal. Suddenly it moved, and she screamed. Gleaming dully from the wreckage was a single red optic. With a harsh groan, the body rolled toward Marge and out of the broken maw the words gurgled: "__**For love**__." The little red light flickered out and Marge cried out in horror._

"Maggie! Maggie, wake up, lass!" Centurion's holomatter form shook the sobbing girl gently. Abigail bustled down the ladder into the room in her night robe. "Maggie, love, what is it?" she cried. Incoherently, the teenager clung to her father and wept. "Nightmare," Centurion mouthed to his wife. Abigail made a sympathetic face and wrapped her arms around them both. "Marge, do you want to talk about it?" she murmured. The short shake of the head was a very definite "no".

In the upright tunnel all the human bedchambers were in, some of the others began to poke their heads out of their cubbies. "Is that Marge?" "Who's crying?" and "I'm trying to sleep!" echoed through the tube. Abigail squeezed her daughter tightly. "Your gran sent us a care package from Earth, love," she said soothingly, "I was going to wait a while to open it, but I think now is as good a time as any. There's chocolate, you know."

Far above them at the top of the tunnel, Zettabyte stood at the helm as navigator with Apollo keeping an eye on the scanners. The echoes of Marge's tears made her wince. She longed to comfort her young friend, but she could not leave her post while their sector of space was capable of sudden storms. A sudden pressure on her servos made her look down suddenly.

Looking oddly nervous, Apollo had wrapped his large hand around her small one and squeezed it reassuringly. Zettabyte smiled up at the massive mech, who relaxed slightly. "She has not had a nightmare like this in years," the femme sighed, leaning against Apollo's sturdy frame. Tentatively, Apollo began to wrap an arm around Zetta's shoulders, but was interrupted by a siren at his station. He huffed slightly and returned to the screen, frowning.

Scans had picked up a strange energy trail identical to the one belonging to the mystery attackers of Outpost Gallimimus. Apollo tracked it from 12C to 12D and turned a grim expression to Zettabyte. She took in a deep vent. "Apollo, take the helm, chart a course for 12D. I need to tell the captain." She activated her comm and whispered into it, "We've found the trail, sir. Captain, the trail is leading to Colony 21186D!"

* * *

Cybertron: Well of All Sparks

It was warmer than he'd expected. The youngling balanced precariously on the ledge outside his Cocoon, residual liquid still dripping from his white and aquamarine armor. He ran slim servos over his bronze crested helm with interest. It looked, he thought, a little like a small samurai helmet. He looked down to where his mother stood with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Hi Mom," he smiled, then stopped. "Ooh, new vocal cords. That's weird." June giggled as her son began making many and varied silly noises to test his voice box. Clutching the wall for support, he lowered himself to one knee before June. "What do you think?" he asked eagerly. June blinked rapidly and cleared her throat before answering. "Honey, you look so handsome! I dare say you'll be taller than Arcee." Jack didn't seem to mind this idea in the slightest.

Predaking nodded cordially to him from his customary post several ledges down, and Jack returned the greeting somewhat clumsily. He chuckled nervously. "This body will take some getting used to," he declared, "I feel like I'm twelve again!"

_"Not quite so young, Jackson. Fourteen, perhaps, would be more accurate."_ The warm baritone of Optimus Prime rolled through the Well as the warrior flew up from the core. He seemed refreshed, and certainly more at peace than he had been since arriving.

Optimus landed on the ledge beside June and offered them a small smile. "Have you attempted to walk yet?" he asked, noting that Jack was not far from the tank. The Cybaartarian shook his helm. "I'm not very steady on my feet-er-pedes yet, sir. I'm just trying to get used to my size right now." He struggled up from his kneeling position in front of his mother and managed to stand without wobbling too much. "Processors are a little disorienting at first!" he laughed, grabbing the wall again.

June giggled again, flashing back to his toddler days (and the wealth of stories she _could_ tell but _probably_ wouldn't). Optimus held both his hands out in front of him, palms up. "Come," he said simply. Concentrating fiercely, Jack slid one foot in front of the other. When this did not meet with disaster, he felt confident enough to move his other foot forward. "Let go of the wall, Jack," his mother said encouragingly.

The youngling looked worried, but obeyed. Trying very hard not to flail his arms for balance, he took another step. Then another. Then he lost his balance completely and pitched forward, but by that time he was close enough that Optimus caught him and set him on his pedes again. "Walk to the Cocoon and back," the Prime said, "Without using the wall." Slightly daunted, Jack turned and began to inch his way back towards the Cocoon. Twice he faltered, once he fell. Each time either June or Optimus told him to get back up and keep going.

He knew why they were telling him to do it, of course. Just as many animals must be able to run minutes after birth, he would have to get used to his chassis quickly in the uncertain peace. He touched the tank, turned, and made his way back to Optimus on slightly sturdier legs. He still teetered and tottered on his way, but this time he did not fall. The proud smile on his mother's face as he latched on to Optimus's hands made him beam in return. His godfather inclined his helm gravely. "Again."

As the Cybaartarian walked back to the tank slowly but steadily, Optimus murmured to June, "I have learned a potential weakness of the Sparkeaters." "Thank heaven!" she breathed, "What is it?" Optimus glanced down towards the bottom of the Well, remembering his conversation with Primus.

_'"Creator, my spark is heavy. Will you advise me?" A tendril of blue light curled against the mech's faceplate tenderly._

**I always have. Why should now be any different?**

_"Shockwave has done something unspeakable, Primus," Optimus said quietly, finally releasing the tears he had hidden from everyone else._

**Speak, child of mine.**

_"He...he made monsters! He took children...oh my Maker, can you not erase the images from my mind?_

**Child of mine, you must remember this. Shockwave wanted to create life apart from the way that I had set for you. He has paid for what he has done to my people and the people of Aartar.**

_The voice was unshaken._

_"But I fear that the galaxy may still reap the consequences of Shockwave's actions, sir." the Prime pushed the matter further._

**Do you think that you fight alone?**

_"No," Optimus whispered, "I know you fight alongside us."_

_His Maker's voice echoed gently in his processor as he stared up at His spark._

**Shockwave removed himself from my care, and purged all his ethical subroutines save one.**

_"One? Which one did he leave?" Optimus asked in surprise. Humor radiated through the air around him._

**One older than even I. Be at peace, my child: there are some laws even the most evil of beings cannot break.**

Optimus carried a secret smile as Jack managed to walk back without stumbling once. The smaller mech rubbed the back of his helm somewhat sheepishly. "So, do I have to go by the other name we picked out all the time now?" he asked, "Or is that only for when we're in Eden?" His mother stepped into Optimus's proffered hand as they prepared to leave the Well. "Technically you won't use your other name until Optimus and I work out the guardianship papers in Eden," she explained, "but I want you to start getting used to it now."

June had chosen the name Helios years ago when Jack took the journey to Vector Sigma. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd remembered a myth involving another Orion being healed by a journey to Helios. Granted, that Orion had been of a far less noble character than the warrior she knew, but the name Helios would not leave her memory. Jack and Optimus had heartily agreed when she told them, and over coffee in the Archives one night June had unofficially christened her boy Helios Pax.

Arcee was waiting for them with Optimus's personal craft, the _Resolute_. "Hey, partner!" Jack called cheerfully. The small cube of energon the femme had been drinking from was abruptly dropped, and the liquid was spat out in surprise. The young mech snorted. "Really, 'Cee? I look that bad?" Arcee tried to come up with a good description of what she was feeling before settling for, "You're taller!" She sounded slightly chagrined.

She turned to Optimus. "A priority-one signal came from Pred'akngard about an hour ago, but I couldn't raise you on the comm," she said. The Prime frowned. "Thank you, Arcee. I will attend to it." Once inside the "Resolute", he quickly scanned Soundwave's missive. "So it begins," he muttered, shaking his helm. He set Space Bridge coordinates for 12D and sat back in the pilot's seat.

"Helios, come here." The command was gentle, but not to be contested: Jack dropped his conversation with Arcee instantly to join Optimus in the cockpit. "Contact Megatronus Prime and inform him that we are en route to Colony 21186D with news that may turn the tide in our favor," the warrior rumbled. Choosing an encoded frequency, the younger mech opened a channel to the _Nemesis_.

"_Nemesis_, this is the _Resolute_. We are entering Kaonian space and are headed for Colony 21186D," he spoke clearly and firmly. The face on the screen looked at him suspiciously. **_"Who are you, and what is your function aboard the Resolute?"_**Megatronus asked. Optimus turned the screen so that he brother would see him as well. "Megatronus, this is my _son_, Helios." The former Decepticon raised an eyebrow. He pretended to sigh in resignation. **_"Well at least he's taller than Arcee."_**

Helios discreetly turned down the volume on the comm so that Arcee's response wouldn't make it to the _Nemesis_, but the expression of comical outrage on the screen told him that he'd been just a little too late. "Right, well, we should arrive soon, with information that will help us with the Sparkeaters," he said awkwardly, before shutting of the screen.

* * *

Colony 21186D: main hangar bay

With his siblings left to make sure no one came after Windblade or Hot Shot, it was left to Sunstorm to call Megatronus. He had taken the lift down to the central hangar bay, which would have been far quieter than his room. Sunstorm blinked in surprise at the unexpected company he found. A somewhat rusty freighter with the name _Tranquility_ emblazoned on the side took up his normal spot. Curiosity overcame the young mech and he wandered over to see who would exit. The last thing he expected was the red-eyed Vehicon femme from 12C.

They both reared back and simultaneously exclaimed, "You again?!"

* * *

_Next time, on "Survival":_

_"Don't presume to tell me the law, I wrote most of it!" "Then you must know how grievously Commander Magnus has erred."_

_"They're taking that girl over my dead body!"_

_"Sir, something smashed through an airlock on the underside of the ship."_

_"Inoue! No!"_

* * *

**Translations for * words: (which are Swahili, btw, that I found in a Swahili dictionary)**

**Kijinga: nuisance, troublemaker**

**Sawasawa: ok **

**Well, the board is set, the pieces are moving. All my main characters are now in the same place: let the games begin.**


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**All roads have led to the colony. The enemy is making ready. Also, I finally decided what my versions of Sparkeaters look like. It is to be devoutly wished that I never run across one!**

* * *

_Previously, on "Survival":_

_"They can take younglings away from their families?!"_

_"You can hide here."_

_"I'm going to fight this, but I need your cooperation."_

_"The trail leads to Colony 21186D!"_

_"We are en route with news that may turn the tides in our favor."_

_"You again?!"_

* * *

Colony 21186D, hangar bay

Sunstorm feigned nonchalance and watched Endline with an air of practiced boredom. "Well well. It's a small universe after all...Endline, was it?" "Take it easy, kid," the femme groaned, "I don't want any trouble." The two stared at each other warily for a moment before Gigawatt exited the ship, loudly complaining about her aching joints. Behind her, Marge walked in a perfect imitation of the older bot's gait, silently mimicking her grousing. Tension was effectively broken when Endline and Sunstorm both began snickering.

Centurion stepped out gracefully with Abigail sitting on his shoulder. His optics brightened when he spotted Sunstorm. "Excuse me, lad, but could you tell me who's in charge of defense on this ship?" The youngling thought for a moment. "I suppose that'd be the police and the Wreckers. They're probably going to be down at the Central Hub." A private message arrived over his personal com from Ramjet. "Coincidentally," Sunstorm announced smoothly, "I myself will be heading to the Central Hub in a moment, if you'd like an escort." "Thank you, young sir, that would be most helpful!" Abigail answered.

As the eldest Triplet and the crew of the Tranquility left the hangar bay, Sunstorm innocently asked them their business. "I'm surprised they let you land at all," he remarked, "Seeing as no one's being allowed outside right now." The crew of the Tranquility exchanged meaningful glances. It would seem the colony at least had an inkling that something dangerous was about. Inoue turned around to ask Geist a question and his jaw dropped.

At his stuttered gibberish, the others turned to see the _Resolute_ landing in the far end of the bay. Sunstorm had only seen the _Resolute_ once, when he was very young. Usually Optimus Prime preferred to use the Space Bridge when he traveled. The docking ramp lowered and a slim blue femme hopped out. She sauntered up to the group with a gleam in her optics and stood with a hand on her hip. "What do you know? The gang's all here!" she smirked.

* * *

Arcee had pored over the information gathered by Optimus for the duration of the voyage. It seemed too fantastical to be true, in all honesty, that something as simple as a scapegoat would have any chance of stopping the Sparkeaters. Still, one didn't argue with Primus. And speaking of arguing, their belligerent friends from 12C were in the bay waiting-in a considerably better mood than last time, apparently. Jack, or rather, Helios, had been in the cockpit with Optimus when he'd suddenly exclaimed, "Hey! Isn't that the Sector Sweep team from Outpost Gallimimus? What are they doing here?"

June glanced at Arcee with a frown. "I've been doing vid-counseling sessions with Endline. They're supposed to be surveying the rings of Eden!" Arcee launched the docking ramp and jumped out. Endline appeared to have lost most of her belligerence, for which Arcee could only be grateful. "Captain, you're a long way from home," she observed. The gold mech saluted her politely and attempted to explain himself.

"My crew and I decided to do a little research on our mystery attackers," he said carefully, glancing at an attentive Sunstorm. "We have discovered that they are connected to the doomed flight Cygnus 26...and we traced them here." Arcee froze. "_Scrap_!" she hissed. Behind her, Optimus strode forward to meet them. "That explains Megatronus's summons. He must also have traced the Sparkeaters' signal."

He turned to look at Sunstorm. "Where are your siblings, Sunstorm? Megatronus is on his way here as we speak." The orange and red Seeker shifted uncomfortably. "They're at the Central Hub. They just have some minor issues to deal with." The answer was evasive enough to make the adults take notice. Optimus said nothing, but quietly stared the Seeker down. Sunstorm squirmed for a moment and muttered something about his sister's friend and a custody battle. "_Actually_," the youngling whispered to the Prime as June and Helios joined the small crowd, "_having a Prime here might stop them from taking Windblade away from her family_."

Arcee started violently. Windblade?! She knew that name. A year ago, she had been trading correspondence with Bulkhead and he had mentioned that Miko planned to Metamorphose as soon as she was of age. Windblade was the name the girl had chosen, even then, at the age of eighteen. It had been all Bulkhead and Wheeljack could talk about for weeks! The sudden appearance of a youngling named Windblade involved in a legal matter of some kind couldn't be coincidence.

Nurse Darby's eyes widened, and Optimus's jaw tightened. This was going to complicate things. "If the governing body of this colony cannot reach a reasonable conclusion in this matter, the Primes will deal with it," Optimus said sternly. He swiveled his shoulders and walked away. "Until then," he spoke over his shoulder, "there are more pressing matters to be addressed." The solemn party made their way through the living quarters of J-deck, past the markets in G-deck to the Central Hub in the core of the Storm Front.

Arcee pulled Helios back to walk with her. Neither of them knew what to expect, but Arcee wanted her partner to be as prepared as possible. "Jack," she whispered, "Listen very carefully: remember when you and Miko and Raf found out about Metamorphosis for the first time? Miko picked a name out within weeks." Helios pressed his lips together. "I was thinking the same thing. She's still underage, 'Cee: if there's not a good explanation for this, there'll be the Pit to pay." Neither of them felt like bringing up the problems this could cause the mission.

If the governing forces on such a massive ship couldn't handle this unusual case, how could they be expected to protect their people from Sparkeaters? The crew of the _Tranquility_, Optimus and his followers, and Sunstorm arrived at the Central Hub security base in time to witness a near-screaming match between four humans, the Wreckers, and the other two Trine members. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were clearly on the verge of drawing their weapons, and the four young ones had formed a protective circle around Windblade.

* * *

Sheriff Simmons stood between the Wreckers and head surgeon Andon with her arms stretched out to the sides. "You aren't concerned with this girl's health and safety!" she scolded, "You're just out for prestige!" The thin balding man sneered at her condescendingly. "I don't expect _you_ to understand the political concerns behind this breach, Mrs. Simmons-" He was interrupted by Bulkhead stomping his foot emphatically.

"Show some respect, sawbones. You call her 'Sheriff'!" "Or what? You'll step on me?" Andon scoffed, "Well I've got four words for you: Asimov's Law of Robotics!" That was too far, even for Andon. "If I thought you stood a flea's chance," Bulkhead snarled, "I'd punch you in your scrap-lousy face!" "Don't worry, kids," Wheeljack muttered to the younglings, "They're taking that girl over my dead body!" The sniping and unpleasantries swelled to a fever pitch until-"_Enough_!" Optimus folded his arms over his spark chamber and fixed them all with a level gaze.

The combatants jumped, and the Wreckers (including Windblade) all saluted. The Prime was not happy. "Your enemies are at your doorstep and you behave like _children_!" He chided them severely, and not even the head surgeon dared to look him in the eye. "We are united: our peoples are one. I expected better of all of you," Optimus said sternly. Magnus stepped forward, helm lowered respectfully. "Sir, this entire debacle is the result of my own actions. I assume full responsibility for Miko's premature Metamorphosis."

Optimus nodded sharply. "Yes. We will discuss that after the immediate threat has passed." The human judge who had been dragged into the custody battle adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. "If I may?" He waited for Optimus's acknowledgment before continuing. "Frankly, I think if the matter isn't solved quickly, somebody's going to get hurt. Do you mind if I speak with them a moment?" "Of course, old friend," Optimus agreed, "I only ask that it be kept brief. I fear that Sparkeaters hold to no such legal constrictions."

The words fell heavily among the listeners. Councilor Fowler motioned for Andon to come forward and plead his case as Sunstorm made his way to his siblings. "Megatronus is going to be here soon," he whispered, "we haven't started any fights, right?" Slipstream shook her helm. "Not unless you count this," she whispered back. Their wings twitched nervously. The surgeon's condescending and mean-spirited attitude made it unlikely that anyone would agree with his proposal, but that was no guarantee that the Wreckers would escape punishment.

* * *

Arcee and Helios made their way over to the group. Despite the gravity of the situation, Arcee was greeted with enthusiastic embraces from Bulkhead and Wheeljack alike. "What happened, Miko?" she wheezed, recovering from a Bulk-hug. The red femme shrugged as much as she could with Hot Shot and Smokescreen's arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders. "I can't really remember, and from what the Commander told me, I'm not sure I want to." Arcee stepped over to pull the youngling into a sisterly embrace, then stepped back and held her at arm's length. "You look great, Miko! Interesting wings. I take it you're a jet of some kind?"

Windblade nodded eagerly. "Stealth jet, in fact. And it's Windblade now, for the record." Her optics caught Helios's and she frowned. "Who are you?" The young mech frowned as well. "Aw, come on Miko! Surely you remember me?" The femme's jaw dropped. "Alpha Trion's Beard!" she squealed, "_Jack_?!" Her fellow Wreckers released her, and she near tackled her old friend with a Bulk-hug. "You Metamorphosed too? This rocks! We're Cocoon Buddies!"

Arcee shook her helm with a knowing smile as she noticed Slipstream's optics shining with interest when she looked at Helios. Primus help Megatronus, she unexpectedly found herself thinking, She's old enough to notice mechs! Her smile faded as she glanced over to where an exasperated Fowler was dealing with the human surgeon.

* * *

"Don't presume to tell me the law, I wrote most of it!" Bill Fowler snarled at the man before him. "Then you must know how grievously Commander Magnus has erred." the surgeon replied, "I assure you, my intentions are pure!" "I don't care _what_ your motives were, doctor! You do _not_ bring up Asimov's Law of Robotics to a Cybertronian, Cybaartarian, Cyborg, or anywhere in between!" Fowler growled. Andon held up his hands in submission. "I know, I know, but he was provoking me, and-" "And_ nothing_!" the judge interrupted harshly, "You_ don't_ use racial slurs in this colony!" Bill took a deep breath, regaining some measure if calm.

"Surgeon Andon, I think you need to stop reading old sci-fi books. This is reality, not the Matrix. I find your proposal to separate Windblade from her CNA parent to be indefensible and unfounded. Furthermore, by discussing a patient's private concerns, you violated HIPAA*. I find your attitude towards your fellow citizens concerning, and in my opinion it's a breach of your vow to "first do no harm"." Councilor Fowler looked up at Optimus Prime. "Anything I missed, Prime?"

Optimus knelt to look Andon in the eye. "Head Surgeon Roger Stanford Andon," he said quietly, "I do not think you are an evil person." Those standing near enough to overhear were as startled as Andon himself. Optimus continued, "From your own testimony, whether you realize it or not, you have revealed that your only concern at the beginning of the matter was whether Mikoto Nakadai was being illegally removed from medical care. It was not until after you learned of her transformation that you allowed your prejudices and ambitions to creep in."

The Prime stood once more, just as an intercom announced the arrival of Megatronus Prime and his squadron. "Captain," Optimus said suddenly, turning to Centurion, "I am told that you live by a motto that may well apply to this situation. What is it?" The O'Connors spoke in unison, having repeated it often enough. "For as much as is possible, be at peace with all mechs." Optimus turned his grave face to look at every person there. "For as much as is possible, be at peace with each other," he rephrased, "For I fear that we shall have little enough peace from elsewhere until the Sparkeaters are dealt with."

* * *

A humbled Andon was dismissed and an emergency council was called to discuss the oncoming threat. Megatronus, Soundwave, and twenty of the Pred'akngard Elite marched into the Central Hub moments later, tension rolling off of them in waves. Optimus stood and held out an arm. "Welcome, Brother," he said, and there was the faintest hint of relief in his voice. The Kaonian Prime clasped his arm in greeting, but looked irritated. "Brother. I left before you, by Space Bridge! How is it that you arrived first?" Optimus's optics twinkled with the remembrance of some long-forgotten joke between them, but rather than speak he guided Megatronus to the map table.

The larger mech walked slowly around the holograms, noting the energy trails discovered by the crew if the Tranquility, more recent than the ones that had brought him to the colony. He stopped behind the Trine, taking a moment to make certain that none of them were any worse off than they'd been the last time he'd checked in. Dear Primus, what an old softspark he was turning out to be! He caught Ramjet's concerned look and tweaked the youngling's shoulder guard affectionately before moving on to discuss shields with the head of security for 21186D.

"What do we know about these Sparkeaters?" Fowler asked, steepling his fingers. Soundwave shuddered violently at the word, remembering the gruesome discovery they'd made in the Cygnus 26. Megatronus nodded sympathetically and continued circling the table. "They were created by Shockwave. Well, the original six were in any case. The time and nature of the attacks post-Cygnus suggest that they have found a way to multiply." The distaste was evident in his gruff baritone. Briefly, characteristics of a Sparkeater Attack were described.

No one missed the meaningful looks the Wreckers were throwing each other. "Hot Shot, do you have something to add to the discussion?" Optimus asked. The young Wrecker gulped and pulled his visor down over his faceplate, embarrassed. "Speak up, son," Fowler encouraged. The blue speedster got over his initial shyness quickly. "I was saying to Smokescreen that it sounds just like what happened to us when Miko got hurt!" He turned earnest optics to the Primes. "We all got uneasy suddenly, and Miko made us all go inside because our scanners were showing, like, thirty lifeforms around us but we couldn't see a thing!"

Helios's optics widened. Thirty? That would certainly be enough to do serious damage to the ship. What was stopping them from attacking? Hot Shot described the attack on Miko and how it had pierced the Apex Armor and nearly severed her spine. Windblade made an uncomfortable noise, and her servos tightened on Magnus's. "That's why we Metamorphosed her early," Hot Shot declared passionately, "She was gonna die!" Megatronus halted his circuit to acknowledge Windblade. "Congratulations. You are the first person ever to survive a Soul-snatcher," he nodded, impressed with her fortitude.

Optimus regained the attention of all present with a simple declaration: "They have one weakness." He pressed his mouth closed for a moment in thought, then went on. "I went to Primus for counsel," "Always wise," Megatronus interrupted sagely, "but what is the weakness?" Optimus acted as though his brother had not spoken. "In shaping these twisted and ruined forms, Shockwave imprinted his own code onto them. Therefore, it stands to reason that the one ethical subroutine he could never rid himself of still has power over the Sparkeaters as well."

Endline knit her brow in confusion. "But sir, we don't know what that subroutine is, do we?" "We do," Optimus answered. He seemed saddened. The temporary glee that had spring up at the idea of a way to strike back at the monsters was dampened by the Prime's next words. "It was based upon a law older than even Cybertron: if one who is counted innocent willingly lays down their life so that another may live, the one who sheds the innocent's blood is bound not to harm those the innocent purposed to save, or else forfeit their own life."

The solemn silence following his words was unceremoniously broken by a flurry of sirens and warning lights. "What in the name of Paul Revere's horse is going on out there?" Fowler bellowed into the com. Sheriff Simmons appeared as a hologram on the table. "Report from the lower decks just came in! Sir, something smashed through an airlock on the underside of the ship." Megatronus barely managed to stifle a particularly vicious curse before it left his mouth. He had a terrible feeling that their adversaries were behind this. If they got in among the humans in the living quarters... "Set up a level 9 containment field quarantining the breach!" he snapped. It wouldn't hold them forever, but it would buy them time.

Unless they were already aboard.

"Wreckers, evacuate all civilians to the Central Hub!" Optimus ordered. He turned to Fowler. "There are emergency bunkers here, are there not?" The judge-cum-councilman scrambled to prepare his staff. Optimus turned his gaze to the younger group present. "Captain O'Connor, you and your crew and family are to remain here and run continual scans for the Sparkeaters' energy signatures." In a synchronized motion, he moved aside to draw his sword as Megatronus took his place. "Wrecker Windblade, Helios Pax, you will go to the bunkers with Healer Darby."

That he did not call her "The Woman" was a testament to his own anxiety. Miko and Jack's protests were cut off by Ultra Magnus. "Windblade, do as he says. You don't have enough experience in that body to fight. Helios doesn't even have an alt-form yet!" Very reluctantly, the pair conceded. Now came the tricky part: convincing the Trine to do the same. Megatronus took the Triplets off to the side. "You three will have to protect the others, do you hear me? They can't fight yet, but you can." The three saluted, trembling. "Go, be safe," their Prime commanded. He drew from his subspaced compartment the daggers he had made for Ramjet and placed them in the youngling's servos. Ramjet impulsively hugged Megatronus, then backed away to stand with the Cybaartarians.

Sunstorm let out a heavy exvent as Megatronus placed his heavy hand on his shoulder guard. "You are the eldest," he murmured, "You must shield your siblings from danger as much as you can." He smiled ruefully. "That is what brothers do." He brought forth the armor designed especially for Sunstorm and fastened it to the young mech himself. Blinking coolant from his optics, the orange Seeker copied his brother and embraced the warrior who had watched over him for as long as he could remember. Then he too moved to stand with Jack and Miko.

Megatronus could hardly bring himself to look Slipstream in the optics. "Don't go!" the distraught femme begged, wrapping her slim servos around his ungainly talons. He presented her with the curved blade from his forge, and she took it numbly. "_Please_..." she whispered tearfully, "Isn't _one_ dead father enough?" In a rush of movement, Megatronus swept Slipstream into his arms and held her tightly. "I promise," he choked, "I promise that I will return." He bent his helm to look at the weeping youngling.

"I can't handle this," Dean mumbled, and hopped down from Endline's shoulder to head for the door. "Inoue! _No_!" Endline snatcher her partner back up. "_We_ stay here, _you_ don't get yourself killed. Orders are orders." Inoue scowled, an expression matched by Irene and Petrovych. "We'd be helping more in the living quarters where the humans are!" he grumbled. "I'd feel useless just watching screens!" Endline did not release him. "No, Inoue," she hissed, "we don't do solo missions, we're a crew!" Dean looked away pointedly, not yet ready to concede the point.

Miko hugged each of the Wreckers, making them promise to bash skulls for her. "Hot Shot...it's going to be okay, kiddo," Windblade adjusted his visor in a motherly fashion. "Just stick close to Bulk or Jackie and you'll be fine." Bulkhead lightly punched the young mech's flame decal'd shoulder by way of encouragement. Each Wrecker, even Magnus, looped on arm over the shoulder of the bot next to them. "Endurance and Victory." Magnus intoned firmly. "Endurance and Victory*." the others echoed.

Helios turned away from the difficult sight, and found Optimus watching him. "It's harder the first time someone you love goes to war," Helios observed. Optimus nodded and laid a hand on the back of the young mech's helm. "Look after the others," he said quietly, "Arcee will go with the Wreckers and I." Helios looked stricken. The idea of his partner facing the Sparkeaters made his tank churn no less than the idea of his godfather facing them. He bit back the protests and bowed his helm. "I trust you." "And I, you." The simple words meant far more to June, Jack, and Optimus than they would to others. To them, the declaration was not a statement of fact.

It meant "I love you."

* * *

_Next time, on "Survival":_

_"What is this stuff?!"_

_"No matter what comes through that door, you stand together!"_

_"What right do you have to hunt my people? By the Allspark, you will answer me!"_

_"We...are...Daystar...you...will...die!"_

* * *

**Yikes. That might be my longest one yet. **

***1: HIPAA= Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act. Basically, no one can share anything about a patient-not even a name-without that patient's permission.**

***2: "Endurance and Victory", the motto of the elves in Wayne Thomas Batson's Chronicles of Berinfell.**

**When I was writing the families going off to war, I couldn't get this scene from The Patriot out my head. It's the one where the main character is leaving for battle and his silent little girl starts crying, "I'll say anything Papa, don't go, I'll say anything!" **

**Waaaaah! So sad!**


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story from the beginning to now. We have come to the endgame, and few chapters remain.**

_Last time, on "Survival":_

_"You Metamorphosed too? We're Cocoon Buddies!"_

_"The Sparkeaters have one weakness."_

_"Congratulations: you are the first person to survive a Sparkeater attack."_

_"Something smashed through the airlock!"_

_"Isn't one dead father enough?"_

* * *

Colony 21186D: J-deck, human living quarters

Evacuating J-deck was easier said than done. Given that the human population of _Storm Front_ numbered in the thousands, it was physically impossible for the Wreckers to oversee everyone. The colony militia stepped in to guide the frightened inhabitants through checkpoints, scans, and containment fields. Energy shields had been activated at every junction and lift from the lowest deck to G-deck. The worried humans whispered quietly amongst themselves as they were herded into tunnels leading the the Hub bunkers, but on the whole they were oddly silent. An air of foreboding had fallen upon all; children clung silently to their parents, and the heads of individual families could be heard making continuous headcounts.

There were fewer Cybertronians, but they were at greater risk, for their living quarters were one deck closer to the breached airlock. Smokescreen knocked on a door, blaster drawn nervously. A young mech, close to Hot Shot's age, peered out cautiously. "There's been a hull breach," Smokescreen said in as official a tone as he could manage, "Everyone is being evacuated to the Central Hub, by order of the Primes." Behind the young mech, a very old Seeker shuffled forward. "Sparkeaters," he said grimly. As he had in the inn on Eden, Jetstorm scoffed at the idea. "Grandsire, there are no such things!" "Wrong." Smokescreen perhaps should not have been so blunt, but he couldn't help but feel they were running out of time.

Jetstorm seemed to pale, and he took his grandsire's arm. "Let's go," he gulped, and joined the ever-growing exodus from the living quarters. Hot Shot rolled up to Smokescreen and transformed. "That's everyone on this corridor," he confirmed, "How many more?" A quick com to Magnus answered the question. "That's three halls done, twenty-nine to go." The blue and red Wrecker fussed with his visor-a nervous habit. Smokescreen pitied him: Hot Shot had not fought in the Wars for Cybertron and Earth, he had never waited on the edge of a battle before. The older Wrecker smiled. "Bet you I can get 'Bots out twice as fast as you can!" he challenged. "_You're on_!"

* * *

Colony 21186D: engineering

Overall, being a mechanic on the _Storm Front_ was not a very demanding job. The floating colony practically flew herself, which made mechanical errors an anomaly and cause for concern. "Hey Verne," a bird-shaped Cybaartarian frowned down at her console, "Do the internal temperatures of the sublight-drive chambers look a little off to you?" Verne, a grizzly of a man with a bushy red beard and an oil-stained uniform, strode over to the screen. "Well I'll be! They surely do," he exclaimed. He turned to a man running scans of the life support systems.

"Pete, take a couple guys and make sure the drives aren't damaged: the cold might interfere with the instruments from here. Kestrel," he indicated the bird-like femme, "You work on getting temperatures back where they need to be." With a sigh, Pete pushed his chair away from his desk and trudged to the door. Oddly, it had a difficult time opening after he swiped his keycard. Pete scowled and swiped the card a few more times. At last, the door opened a crack and he could see what was blocking it.

"What is this stuff?!" Pete gagged, stepping back. Viscous strands of translucent white matter stretched across the doorway, trapping them in Engineering. "I have a bad feeling about this," the mechanic muttered. They were the last words he ever spoke. Out of the dark spaces between the sticky barriers a segmented appendage snaked through and wrapped around Pete's throat. He gurgled in dismay, and was dragged out through the web. Verne cried out in horror and dashed to shut the door.

As he coded the lock and Kestrel commed for aid, he caught a brief impression of cruel faceplates and needle-sharp teeth attached to a bloated, ungainly body. "Come in, anyone! Someone answer!" Kestrel pleaded on an open hailing frequency, "There are ...Things down here. One of them just got Pete! We're stuck in Engineering, send help!" She turned frightened optics to her comrades. "What's going on?"

* * *

Colony 21186D: Central Hub, war room

"Captain, temperatures are dropping in Engineering!" Coron snapped, turning the monitor to face Centurion. He opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by Petrovych. "Captain! One of the containment fields on H-deck is being tested!" The large man transferred the data to Justin's computer, where the technician perused it quickly. "Low level threat: whatever it is, it's just testing for weaknesses at this point," he confirmed.

"_Sweet St. Genevieve_!" Centurion groaned. He turned to Abigail. "Contact Optimus Prime about the hit on the shields, love. I'll call Megatronus about the temperature drop." Across the room, Inoue leapt up from Endline's shoulder. "It's worse than a cold snap, sir," he cried, "Report just came in: Something's down there with them and it just grabbed one of the engineers." A thought occurred to Endline, and a chill ran down her back struts. If the creatures got into the Engineering chambers, would they be able to shut off the life support system? She began to worry more than ever for the safety of her family.

* * *

Colony 21186D: Central Hub, emergency bunkers

It could not be said that the _Storm Front_ was not equipped for emergencies. The emergency bunkers could have held twice as many people as were crowded together now. June enlisted the help of the H-deck evacuees to set up a temporary clinic for all the patients who had been unceremoniously relocated. Sunstorm waited at the multi-layered doors, ushering in stragglers. Ramjet stood at his side, daggers drawn.

Slipstream was attempting to coach Windblade through the basics of using an equipped weapon. "Maybe you knew all about your scattershot cannon as a human," she said urgently, "but you've never had to summon it out of your own _arm_ before!" Over and over, Miko summoned and dismissed the gun, getting used to the procedure and the feel of it. She didn't miss the way Slipstream's wings sagged with relief when Jetfire and Jetstorm made it into the shelter. "Your crush?" she asked coyly. The Seeker femme flushed and shoved Windblade playfully. "What?_ No_! I mean, I don't_ think_ so, I mean..." She hunched her shoulder guards at her friend's smug look. "How do you know if it's a crush anyway? He just makes me feel weird!" Slipstream complained.

Grateful for a way to distract her from the imminent danger, Miko engaged the other youngling in talk of boys and first crushes. Sitting some distance away, Jack ran his servos over a magnificent blade. It was a Cybertronian hand's-width wide, and four hands long. The runes for Family, Honor, Respect, Protection and Vengeance twisted and curled over the obsidian surface of the double-edged sword, and a stylized Phoenix (a symbol of a house once divided, now united) decorated the hilt. Helios marveled at the craftsmanship and remembered the shock of receiving it.

_"Nephew," Megatronus turned his helm to look at the young mech even as he still held Slipstream in a gentle embrace. Helios moved forward as prompted by Optimus. Releasing the trembling femme, the Kaonian Prime drew from a sheath on his back a sword that seemed too small for his great talons. "This is for you: may it serve you well." He said no more, but solemnly handed the blade to Helios, who took it reverently. "Thank you, Uncle," he whispered._

He now held the shining black blade before him, determined to protect his family, no matter the cost.

* * *

Colony 21186D: lower decks

The cohort moved in near silence between the eerily abandoned junctions. The containment field flickered dimly over the punctured airlock, pale green against the stars. Arcee shivered involuntarily and primed her blaster. Optimus said nothing, but placed a comforting hand on her shoulder guard. Abruptly, Megatronus threw out an arm, barring their way. He pointed to a trail shining wetly on the steel floor, then signaled four of the Pred'akngard Elite to follow it. Cautiously, the others followed with weapons drawn.

**Megatronus.**

The Prime glanced over his shoulder. "What is it, Optimus?" His brother raised an eyebrow. "I did not say anything." They followed the slime to another set of doors before he heard it again.

**Megatronus.**

He turned to glare at Optimus. "_What_?" he hissed. Again, the Prime looked at him strangely. "Brother, I did not say anything." The soldiers shared Optimus's confused expression, setting Megatronus on edge. Once more, the voice whispered,

**Megatronus.**

This time, something clicked in Megatronus's processor. With a hesitancy alien to the fearless mech, in his own spark he answered,

_I am listening._

**Strike.**

One word, that's all it was, but Megatronus obeyed. Without thinking, he swung his blade down and to the left, meeting resistance in midair. There was an bloodcurdling shriek, and a congealed black substance began to ooze onto the floor. The creature's cloaking field faded away, revealing a nightmarish being.

It had a smooth, fanged, human-like faceplate attached to a bald, shining head, and its elongated neck was covered in a wrinkled, soft metal of some kind. What had once been powerful arms had atrophied into a pair of segmented pincer-like appendages, connected at the shoulder to a grossly bloated sac of a body devoid of armor. Two more sets of insectoid limbs completed the disturbing aberration. "Dear Primus in the Allspark!" one of the soldiers gasped, "What is that thing?!" "That, I fear, is a Sparkeater," Optimus uttered gravely.

Three of the four Elite Scouts met the team at the next junction. Their leader saluted the Primes and quietly reported her findings. "There are six chambers ahead that have been sealed off from the rest of the ship by the unknown material. Scans show a high concentration of biotronic matter inside, as well as eleven identifiable enemy life signs." Arcee frowned. "Did you get any thermal images?" the two-wheeler asked. Nodding, the lead scout sent Arcee and the Primes an internal data package containing the footage.

Through the steel doors, cold spots the same size and shape as the creature Megatronus had killed tended to hanging blobs with fading heat signatures. In some of the shots, there were recognizable spark signatures or heartbeats, but most of the sacs contained the same kind of energy as the Sparkeaters. "They're making nests!" Arcee gasped. Optimus's servos tightened into fists as one weak heartbeat ceased altogether. "_Move out_." he growled.

* * *

Colony 21186D: Central Hub, War Room

"Inoue, look!" Endline's urgent whisper was unheard by everyone but her partner. Dean scrambled over the Cybertronian-sized console to peer over at the screen. "What is it?" A sizable contact on the screen, slowly moving towards the emergency bunkers. Dean looked back at the rest of the crew, wholly occupied by the situation in Engineering. "No solo missions," Endline warned, reading her friend like a book. Inoue's face darkened. "Protocol doesn't apply here anymore. They've got _kids_ guarding that shelter! They'll be massacred if someone doesn't get down there, and you know it!"

In response, Endline shouted over her shoulder, "Enemy life sign headed for the bunkers, Cap!" Centurion launched himself out of his seat and checked the scans. "The others won't be able to get there in time!" he looked sick. "Endline, Inoue, go with Apollo and Petrovych: guard that door but do _not_ engage the enemy!" With a terse sign of understanding, Apollo held out a hand for his partner and dashed for the door, pausing only long enough to look Zettabyte in the optics for a moment. Endline and Dean soon followed.

* * *

Colony 21186D: Central Hub, emergency bunkers

June Darby was not a superstitious woman. She had never put any stock in throwing salt over one's shoulder, or crossing brooms in front of a door to ward off evil. Prophecy seemed a relic of the ancient past, and foresight relegated to fiction. Still, June could not escape the feeling of oppression building around her heart. It began like an icicle in the pit of her stomach, and grew into a stifling horror, as if some invisible force was trying to crush her. Something evil was present. The healer clutched at her chest and sucked in a deep breath, trying to dissipate the sensation, but the crushing feeling remained.

"Jack!" June choked out, desperately trying not to panic. An old man heard her strangled cry and hurried over. "You feel it too, don't you?" he said grimly. When June managed to sign an affirmative, the dark-skinned man wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You never do get used to the presence of true evil," he sighed, comforting the panicking woman. He smiled down at her confidently. "That's why you learn to fight it. Don't worry young lady, the Advocate won't let you choke." Suddenly, June could breathe again, and the heavy feeling left her. With a mysterious smile, the elder stood and moved on to comfort another terrified human.

Disoriented by the bizarre experience, June made her way to her son, who still sat staring at the door with drawn sword. "Something's coming, Jack," his mother warned. Helios stood immediately and signaled Windblade. The red youngling deployed her cannon and took aim at the blast doors. Taking their cue from her, the Trine positioned themselves closer and drew their own weapons. There came a wet thud from the other side, and the door shivered with the impact. Slipstream raised her chin defiantly and looked her brothers in the optics. "No matter what comes through that door," she declared, "you stand together." Stoically, five younglings armed with daggers, swords, and blasters stood ready to face the unknown.

* * *

Colony 21186D: Engineering

Having cleared the living quarters, Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack received the call from Optimus: bring grenades. The two raced down the corridors in vehicle mode. The closer to the bottom of the _Storm Front_ they came, the darker it got. Arcee met them at the end of a pitch-black antechamber and held a servo to her lips. She led them to the door of one of the six "nests" where several of the Elite were waiting. In a private glyph message, she shared her orders with the Wreckers. They were to wait for Megatronus's signal, and then detonate all six rooms. The damage to the ship would be grievous indeed, but the alternative was far worse.

Optimus and Arcee, in the meantime, would make their way to Engineering in an attempt to free the trapped mechanics and prevent the Sparkeaters from tampering with the life support systems. Optimus met them with battle-mask in place. "Wheeljack, make certain that the charges will completely incinerate the hives: if even one Sparkeater survives, the consequences could be dire." He passed them without another word and rolled out for Engineering at top speed, closely followed by Arcee. This time, they were prepared for what awaited them.

Arcee tossed a flare into the midst of the webbing, which hissed and squealed like a living thing, curling away from the light and leaving the door free. Uncanny voices gibberish and shrieked in outrage around them as they moved forward. "_Arcee_!" Optimus barely had time to warn the slender femme as a hidden form took a swipe at her unprotected backplates. Arcee hissed in pain, reaching back to feel the space where one of her winglets had once been. She had been able to dodge the draft of freezing air, protecting herself from worse injury, but the wound nevertheless leaked a small amount of energon.

None of the nebulous figures touched the Prime. Every time one came near enough to do any damage, the light of the Matrix sent them cowering to the shadows. "Arcee, walk in front of me," Optimus murmured, "They have no love for the Matrix, it seems." The injured femme stuck close to him, pointing her blasters at every flash of movement. Once inside the chamber, they were met by the sight of Verne hanging from the grip of a magnificent warrior.

Golden optics shone out of a noble faceplate, and sweeping metallic golden wings spread above him, seraph-like. It was only the stains of blood and energon upon his once-white armor that marred his beauty. He turned his winged helm slightly to face the newcomers. "This one will not swear allegiance to me," he intoned in a musical voice. Verne struggled weakly and spat at the being holding him. It glanced down at the offending moisture emotionlessly.

"Humans," he clucked his tongue like an amused parent. "They can always be counted upon to _rebel_." The warrior tightened his grip with a sickening crack. Optimus and Arcee watched in horror as he carelessly tossed the body to the side and strolled casually towards them with a welcoming smile. "You, of course, will be wiser than he, I am certain." He waved his bloody claws at the carnage around him and the webs at the door. "Tell me, what do you think of my work? I must say, I'm a little surprised that my children let you pass without mischief."

The angelic features formed an expression of pity upon noticing Arcee's missing winglet. "My dear lady! It seems they managed a little damage after all. If you'd like, I can heal that for you." He flashed a brilliant smile. "It would be no trouble at all." He slid forward, one hand already outstretched. Then his servos came into contact with the light of the Matrix, and they burned. With a cry, he pulled away and a look of unadulterated hatred twisted his lovely features.

"**_Servants of Primus_**!" he hissed in a guttural tone. Suddenly, his golden wings appeared more as tarnished bronze, and his bright helm was filthy with rust. "**_What would ye with us_**?" Optimus stepped forward and drew the Star Saber from his back. "Cease your war upon my peoples. It was Shockwave and Shockwave _alone_ who was responsible for your condition and he has paid for it. Now you have chosen to pursue a path independent of him: you are fully capable of stopping this slaughter."

The mighty Prime's optics narrowed, and he pointed the Saber at the leader of the Sparkeaters. "You have demonstrated your intelligence clearly, therefore I ask you your name." The demonic mech screeched as the light touched him, showing him every second to be more corrupted, more hideous than before. "What right do you have to hunt my people? By the Allspark, you will answer me!" Optimus glared sternly down at the diminished figure-uglier, but no less deadly. Loathing blazed in his optics as he croaked, "**_We...are...Daystar! ...You...will...die_**!"

* * *

_Next time, on "Survival":_

_"Mercy on us! I think these things are hatching!"_

_"Helios! What happened?!"_

_"What could we possibly give to end this?"_

_"Me."_

* * *

**The leader of the Sparkeaters is, without doubt, the single most evil character I have ever written. Originally this chapter was going to be longer, but then I would have finished earlier than I intended.**


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Consider this a "cold open"**

* * *

_Thud._

The doors shook, despite their layers of steel. "Don't wait until you feel a cold spot," Windblade warned, wings twitching.

_Thud._

Ramjet scurried away from the door suddenly with a mischievous grin. "Anybody got a fire extinguisher?" he called, "Old fashioned fire extinguisher, the foaming kind?" It took some digging, during which time the doors began to dent and bulge, but someone eventually came up with two of the red cannisters. Ramjet seized them gratefully and returned to his siblings, shaking the cans. Sunstorm smirked at his brother. "Ram, you little genius! Are you planning to do what I think you are?"

"Cloaks won't do them any good if they're covered in foam!" the white Seeker said calmly. "Shiny," Slipstream interjected coolly, adjusting her grip on her sword. "Then we take it down, just like Lugnut back home." From his place at Windblade's side, Helios shook his helm in wonderment. "Stars above! They're as crazy as we were!" The remark earned him an elbow to the side. "Reminds me of Earth," Windblade grinned up at him fiercely, "Just like Juneau, remember?" "You and I remember Juneau very differently," Helios quipped. The door bent further inwards and the young mech brandished his blade.

"Just save some for me," Windblade smiled again, but there was no humor in it this time. Helios briefly touched his helm to hers. "Just like old times." The civilians were ushered to the back of the bunker as those with weapons ran to set up a line of defense. With a splintering crash, the last layer of the door gave way. Ramjet tossed the fire extinguishers, sending foam shooting up over the sagging shape of the Sparkeater.

Swiftly, Sunstorm rammed it, sending it off-balance and back outside. Slipstream beheaded it with a savage shriek as Ramjet hacked at its pincers with his daggers.

Slipstream glared down at the monster and wiped the black blood off her rapier. She froze as an icy feeling washed over her. "_Look out_!" Something foul dripped onto her armor from behind her. She whirled around to stare into the dying eyes of a second Sparkeater. With a gurgle, it slipped off the edge of Endline's saber. From her shoulder, Inoue aimed a shock rifle at it. "Check for a pulse, Dean." Endline said coldly. Inoue fired three shots into the unresponsive creature. Behind them, Apollo fitted a containment field over the shattered door. "Nice to see a friendly face!" Helios shook the huge mech's hand with a relieved look.

"We're not done yet," Petrovych warned them, "Scanners picked up about four more headed this way." The defenders turned to face the open space in front of the bunkers and waited. Before long, they began to hear scratching, hissing noises as the enemies approached. As the Sparkeaters came closer, the hiss formed words, and the words formed a chant.

"**_We demand blood! We demand payment_**!"

* * *

Bulkhead had not been idle. The heavy Wrecker heard the skittering sounds and ducked out of sight. Beside him, Smokescreen tracked the invisible killer as it sluggishly squeezed itself out of an air duct. Grime clung to its soft body and slick skull, revealing the faintest of outlines in the dim cargo bay. Hot Shot silently raised his blaster, but Bulkhead pushed it down with a warning look. "For every one you see, there could be three you don't," he whispered. The youngest Wrecker gulped, already shaken by the disturbing sight of the one they could see.

The ungainly being stopped at a membrane-covered door not far from its hidden observers and spoke a word in a vile sounding language they could not understand. The tendrils of mucus pulled back to allow it passage. Stealthily, Bulkhead led the younger soldiers up closer to the entrance. Inside were two other Sparkeaters who hadn't even bothered to activate their cloaking devices. One of them held a defeated-looking teenager in its claws. She did not struggle as she was carried to a hanging pod that opened with a slurp. The Wreckers stared in bewilderment until it dawned on Bulkhead.

"It's a Cocoon!" he recoiled in disgust. "It's a _perversion_ of a Cocoon!" Smokescreen ground his denta. Hot Shot had seen enough. Without warning, he left his hiding place and charged into the chamber with his flamethrower. "Tell me he didn't just do that." Bulkhead grimaced, but called forth his wrecking balls and followed him into the fray. Smokescreen darted in behind them, snatching the human seconds before she was lowered into the oozing sac. Seconds too late: the Sparkeater's venom had stopped her heart.

The Sparkeaters had been caught off guard, and did not shield themselves from the flames. Never had Hot Shot known wrath until that moment as he set the squirming parasites ablaze. One had been in the middle of feeding on an ensnared victim, energon stil staining its mouth as it shrieked. "We've got these, burn the pods!" Bulkhead ordered, crushing the head of a Sparkeater with his mighty fist. Even with the element of surprise, they were very nearly outmatched. Even as three of the four soul-snatchers lay dead upon the slick floors, several of the sacs began to squirm and stretch, hissing sibilantly.

"Mercy on us!" the young pyrotechnician gasped, "I think these things are hatching!" It was true. Out of the pus and slime, a hand emerged, twisting and morphing into a clawed pincer. "Bring 'em down!" Smokescreen shouted, tearing the arm from the last of the previous combatants. Even as the fire consumed the pods, over the ear splitting screeches, a chant began to rise.

"_**We demand blood! We demand payment**_!"

* * *

The one called Daystar seemed to regain some of his composure, creeping closer to Arcee and Optimus Prime. He no longer cowered before them, yet he did not stand as before. "**_Do you hear them_**?" he snarled, "_**Do you hear the voices of my children**_?" He laughed, a deep, smooth sound. The hatred in his optics lit his entire faceplate and he smiled cruelly. "_**Some of your children have spilt the blood of Sparkeaters: they will not rest until they have avenged their brethren. Servants of Primus, your children will die**_!" The Star Saber and a blaster forced him back into his corner. "Do not speak again," Arcee hissed.

* * *

They faced the defenders, swaying on insectoid feet. Three were newly corrupted, eyeless, lumbering beasts capable of little else but eviscerating. The fourth still held the shape of a Cybertronian; though lesser than Daystar, she was as beautiful. Releasing her shield, she stalked forward and disdainfully looked upon her fallen comrades. "_**You have spilt the blood of higher beings. There will be retribution**_." Her voice spoke of filth and decay and things lurking in the dark. Dead optics lighted on Slipstream and narrowed. "_**You killed the first: you are acceptable**_."

Slipstream's former bravado fled, revealing a terrified little femme. "W-what?" she stammered, whipping her blade up defensively. The female Sparkeater tilted her helm and smiled nastily. "_**You will join us: you are strong**_." Seeming to read the youngling's thoughts, she motioned to the rest of the Trine. "_**Without you, they are weak. These others are fit only for sustenance**_." Ramjet and Sunstorm glanced at each other, sickened, and latched into their sister's shoulders. "You can't have her!" they shouted together.

Hecate was not used to being denied anything. She arched her neck haughtily. "_**We will have satisfaction for our brothers' deaths**_!" she warned. Helios snarled. "You would only go on killing innocents! What could we give that could possibly end this?!" "_**What indeed**_?" Hecate cooed, winking at the white and teal youngling. The answer startled them all. "Me." Endline placed her partner on the ground and walked forward. "Spare the lives of everyone I hold dear, and I will not struggle." There was no thought amongst the Sparkeaters, so eager were they for death.

"Endline,_ no_!" Inoue cried out, "Don't do this!" The black femme turned and smiled gently at him. "Take care of them for me," she whispered. The Cybaartarians and Cybertronians moved to stop her, but Endline was stronger and pushed them away. "Do not stop me," she pleaded. "They're not going to keep their word!" Windblade argued, "Don't throw your life away!" Endline shook her hem. "I'm _not_ throwing it away." She shook herself free of her companions and continued on. Hecate's dead optics burned red with bloodlust. "_**We accept**_!" she laughed.

Endline stood in silence, helm tipped back and optics shuttered. Dean forced himself to watch through blurry eyes when they began to tear at his partner. Rather than encase her in webbing or hew her armor asunder, the cloaked Sparkeaters fastened their fangs into her limbs and injected their venom into her system. Endline made a coughing sound, and swayed a little. Energon began leaking from the corners of her optics as her functions began to shut down, one by one. The femme bit down on her lip to stop the inevitable screams.

Beginning at her pedes and steadily moving upwards, all color left Endline's body, and her armor began to corrode and warp. She collapsed to the floor, oblivious to her friends' cries. She struggled to clear her vents, blinking back energon and tears, her lip nearly split in two. Hecate sneered and stepped upon the dying femme's spark chamber. "_**I've heard of you, Red-Eyes. Don't you wish Thunderwing had killed you with your family**_**?**" she whispered in Endline's audial fin, "_**It would have been so much kinder**_**!**" At the last word, she ground her heel upon the Spark. This time, Endline did cry out. Hecate bent down once more. "_**The little red one was right, you know. You've thrown your life away needlessly. But so that I may have the pleasure of killing them first, tell me: who is it that you hold most dear?**"_

Voice box damaged, and with barely enough energon to power her optics, Endline summoned all her strength for one last time. "_Everyone_!" she gasped triumphantly. Then she was gone.

* * *

Daystar reeled suddenly as whatever poise he had regained left him. "_**What is this**_**?**" he roared at the Sparkeaters guarding Engineering, "**_Who has accepted a willing victim_?!**" Optimus's optics widened. The only ones who knew of that weakness were those who had been in the council of war with him. Arcee stiffened next to him as the implications hit her: someone they knew was dead. "Surrender, Daystar," the Prime said coldly, stepping closer. The stained creature chuckled bitterly. "_**And will the great Autobot leader show me mercy?"**_

"No."

* * *

Hecate shoved Endline's corpse aside with a bored yawn. "_**So much for that**_," she sighed. She smiled at the sheer devestation in the optics of her witnesses. "_**And now for you**_," she announced. The little human first, she decided, the one who had been so close to the dead one. Inoue stood his ground, staring mutely at the husk of his partner. Hecate waved one of the new Sparkeaters forward and it shambled towards him. Dean was rooted to the spot. "No!" Suddenly Helios stood over him, sword drawn.

Eager for more energon, the venemous abomination attacked. The moment it's pincers clipped the mesh of Helios's side, it knew something was wrong. A single drop of energon fell to the deck, bright blue against the gray. Hecate shrieked in dismay as her wings crumbled into dust. Rust crept over her bright armor and her talons dulled. Her companions swung their vast heads from side to side in confusion as their cloaking devices fell away, revealing them to their enemies.

Inoue stopped to retrieve his fallen rifle. "Let's finish this!"

* * *

Megatronus did not stop to question when the sacs began to fall from the ceiling and the Sparkeaters became visible. "Wreckers! Destroy the hives!" he thundered, anchoring his footing. Thunder of a different kind rolled through the lower deck as the charges detonated, shaking the walls. The mighty Kaonian braced himself as the shockwave caught up to him.

* * *

"Hang on, kid!" Bulkhead dug his feet into the ground as a series of concussive blasts ripped through the hull, exposing the three Wreckers to open space. Smokescreen grimly hung on to the remains o the scorched webbing, feet dangling towards the stars. Hot Shot held tightly to Bulkhead's arm: the only thing keeping him from being sucked out into the void. "I can't hold on!" he yelled, "My hands are covered in Sparkeater blood!" As he spoke, his servos slipped a little more. "Gimme your other hand, Hot Shot, I can't pull you in alone!"

"You can do it, kid!" Smokescreen encouraged, "I think we won! You know what that means? It means we're going home!" He adjusted his grip on the sticky strands and began to build up a swinging momentum. "We'll all go home and see our families, Hot Shot," he kept talking even as the youngling's servos slid to the end of Bulkhead's armor and his stress doubled. "You can't go home if you're stuck in deep space, kid," Bulkhead agreed, "Don't you want to see your parents?"

"What are you talking about?" the panicky mech yelped, "I don't _have_ parents, I came out of the _Well_!" The moment's distraction was all Smokescreen needed to swing down and kick his fellow soldiers out of the way of the hole in the ship, giving them the time needed to polarize their pedes to the deck. The trio stood in silence a moment, stating out into space. Bulkhead spoke suddenly.

"Jackie owes us a drink for this."

* * *

Throughout the colony, the Sparkeaters fell. Not one escaped the forces of Megatronus and Optimus as they made their way up from the shattered lower decks, least of all Daystar. The corrupted being's armor couldn't stop bullets, let alone the Star Saber. Yet there was no shout of triumph, no boost of morale. They returned to a near-silent Central Hub to find mourning. The Trine huddled together on the floor, comforting and seeking comfort by turns. The crew of the Tranquility had arrived shortly before the Primes, and were gathered around their fallen sister, openly weeping.

Ultra Magnus hurried over to Windblade, who was staring dully at the crowd. "Wrecker, report!" he said gruffly, "Any injuries?" She shook her helm from side to side numbly. "Nothing physical," she mumbled. Magnus winced. It would be a long time before any of them would be able to recharge well. Optimus strode through the soldiers and civilians to find June and Helios. The latter sat on a crate as the former patched the gash in his side. "Helios, what has happened?" the Prime asked quietly. "Endline tricked them," the youngling replied just as softly. "They killed her..." He shuttered his optics. "I haven't seen anything that bad in several years. It was nearly as bad as the aftermath of the Centauri Skirmish, two years ago."

"I was referring to your injury," Optimus clarified, kneeling next to him. Helios shrugged. "One of them tried to attack Inoue after killing Endline. I got in the way." Optimus understood. The terms of the agreement had been broken: blood had been shed after Endline's sacrifice, and the Sparkeaters had paid the price. June sadly watched Centurion and his family as they grieved. "We can never _ever_ forget this," she said. "No one will," Optimus assured her, "No one ever will."

* * *

The funeral was simple.

Endline's shell was arranged peacefully and jettisoned into space by the request of her friends. "She's not in there anymore," Marge had smiled through her tears, "She won't mind." The O'Connors sang a hymn, and Optimus spoke to those attending about the Vehicon femme's courage. "I did not know Endline personally," the comforting basso rumbled, "But I believe that she would want you to _live_, honoring her sacrifice, rather then spend your life in sorrow."

Dean was given his partner's posthumous commendation for bravery, as she had no family left. He accepted, dry-eyed, but did not speak at the service.

He did not speak for several weeks.

* * *

In the void, the pieces of the dead Sparkeaters floated where they had been jettisoned, lifeless. They would never harm another soul.

A small distance away, the body of Daystar drifted. Gone were the wings, the helm. He bore no trace of his proud beauty. The husk bumped into an orbiting asteroid and spun gently. One loosened optic floated free and was sent in a different trajectory.

It opened.

* * *

_Eden, several months later_

"Do you think it is truly over?" Megatronus stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring up at the sky. His brother frowned at the question. "I believe that it is." For a long time, neither spoke. Shoulder to shoulder they stood, watching the sun rise over Eden. "How are the Triplets?" Optimus asked. "They are...coping," Megatronus sighed, "It was their first time in battle. It was a miracle that they survived at all." Optimus smiled a little. "You taught them well, Brother. They will heal in time."

They lapsed into silence again, this time broken by Megatronus. "Primus spoke to me." "What?" Red optics met blue. "In the lower deck, when I killed that Sparkeater. He told me when to strike and where." Optimus's smile widened. "Ah. I wondered." He nudged his brother gently. "You do not still doubt Primus's decision to make you a Prime, do you?"

With a noncommittal grunt, the elder Prime turned to go. "Megatronus?" He stopped. His brother had a thoughtful look. "Time and again, we have learned that we can never take an enemy's defeat for granted. If this situation should ever arise again, what will we do?" Optimus's question was multilayered. Megatronus's answer was not.

"We'll be ready."

He left Optimus to stand alone on the parapet, watching the sunrise. The Autobot leader watched the light wash over the peaceful homes below, and his spark ached for the lives lost. Other threats would arise one day, as they always did, but they would never be caught off-guard again. Optimus turned away and stepped inside to join his waiting family. Danger would not cease to exist, but the next time evil reared its head, they would be ready.

They would be waiting.


	21. Epilogue

**And so at last, we come to the end of our long adventure. I have greatly enjoyed writing it, and I have loved reading your feedback. It's bittersweet, finishing my first long story. I've put so much time into this that it feels weird to be done with it. I leave you now with the epilogue of Colony 21186D: Survival.**

* * *

_And so it was that peace returned to Quadrant 12, albeit at great cost. Captain Centurion was promoted to Chief General of the Edenite Fleet, and he and his crew still roam the stars, with the exception of two. Zettabyte and Apollo were bonded, and started a shelter for victims of gang violence in Keller's Holt. In the aftermath of the Colony 21186D incident, each man and mech returned to his own home. The Primes set aside a day to remember Endline, the Hero of 12D. They ruled wisely through-_

"Stop, Daddy!" The storyteller blinked in surprise. "What's wrong, Sweetspark?"

The tiny pink femme sat up in her bunk and crinkled her smooth faceplate. "You tewwin' it wong!" Her father smiled indulgently. "I'm telling it wrong?" From the top bunk, a slightly bigger sparkling poked his golden helm. "Yeah, Daddy! You forgot the most 'portant part! The part where-" "The part where Hewios an' Windbwade faw in wuv!" his sister interrupted. The little mech looked horrified. "_Yuck_! Li-li, that's not the most 'portant part! The most 'portant part is when Hot Shot got dotted!"

Their father looked confused. "When Hot Shot got what?" "He got dotted!" his son explained, "You know, dotted?" Seeing a lack of recognition, the gold sparkling huffed in irritation. "_Dotted_! He didn't got a Mommy and Daddy, so Gramma said, 'You're coming home with us!' Dotted." The storyteller laughed when he realized what the sparkling was trying to say. "You mean _adopted_, Orion. And yes, that was a very important part." Not to be outdone, the toddler femme squealed, "What about Hewios and Windbwade, Daddy? They had to faw in wuv!"

The two sparklings were lifted from their bunks and set down on their father's knees. "Wanna know a secret, Elita?" he asked. He smiled proudly at them both. "I've been in love with your Mommy since the War for Earth!" Both children pondered this awhile and little Elita looked up with round optics. "Daddy," she said solemnly, "You're _old_!" Helios Prime pretended to take offense. "Hey! _I'm_ old? Well what does that make Mommy?" "Don't be silly, Daddy!" Orion giggled, "Mommies don't _get_ old!"

"Ahh, you're a wise guy!" Helios ruffled his son's helm and set the two down. "Okay you two, Daddy's got to go to work. Be good for Grandfather while Mommy's at the Doctor's, ok?" Two little helms nodded enthusiastically. "Annnd...you're going to destroy something as soon as I leave, aren't you?" Helios sighed. Again, they nodded, giggling shrilly.

The young Prime stuck his tongue out at the sparklings and exited the room. "Thanks for watching them," he said to the amused figure in the living room, "They're a handful!" "So were you and Miko," Optimus said dryly. Helios was about to protest, but the twinkle in the old Prime's optic left him cheerfully conceding defeat. "Have you much work to do today?" the Elder asked.

Helios shrugged. "Mostly budget proposals and trade arrangements with the outlying settlements. And debates," he made a face, "Lots and lots of bureaucratic debates. I don't know how you manage it, Father." He laughed at Optimus's answer. "I find that spending time in the Archives keeps me sane."

"Ah yes, the Archives!" Helios grinned mischievously. "Speaking of which, what's this I hear about a little human getting stuck under your arm plating when you weren't looking?" The expression of comic outrage on his father's faceplate sent him scooting for the door.

"I told Jazz not to tell! Honestly, he's as bad as your brother!" Optimus grumbled. He looked up as the younger Prime headed out the door. "You'll be fine, Helios. I trust you."

"I trust you too!" his son waved once, then transformed and rolled out. At the sound of giggling, Optimus turned to look down and the pair of sparklings that were trying to sneak up on him. He smiled and scooped them up as little Orion and Elita Pax began demanding stories.

"Goodness me! Didn't your Sire just tell you a story?" he feigned surprise. "Teww us a anovver one!" Elita begged, "Teww us how Mommy and Daddy met!" The massive mech chuckled and settled back into the chair. "Oh, very well. But if your Great Uncle asks, I didn't say anything embarrassing about him!" The twins looked at each other and grinned. Unca Megatwonsus was going to hate this story, they could already tell.


End file.
